


and despite our differences, love is what we all share

by Skyuni123



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Angst, Cats, Erin!Whump, F/F, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Issues, Friendship, Gals being pals, Gen, Ghosts, Holtzmann!Whump, Marriage, Mixed Media, Pirates, Religion, Science Girlfriends, Slow Burn, Social Media, Team as Family, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 29,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7722217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s not weird that you two get married.” Abby points between Erin and Holtzmann, “Because you two are never on the internet. No-one knows much about you at all. An office romance is totally plausible. Me and Patty? Not so much.”</p><p>“Yeah, Obama follows me on Twitter.” Patty says. “He’s cool.”</p><p>“I think it’ll be great, Erin.” Holtzmann couldn’t sound any more passive-aggressive if she tried. “So. When’s our wedding?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Medias Res

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Honey, I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true.”

Erin Gilbert whirls on Abby Yates, not satisfied with the answer she had received from one Patty Tolan. “ _You_ have got to be kidding me.”

The older woman shrugs, apparently not bothered, “Sorry.”

“No, this is not a sorry moment! You don’t get to be sorry.” She shakes her hands, flustered, and then grips onto the back of a chair, steadying herself. “I can’t do this.”

The fourth member of their team, a usually-recalcitrant Jillian Holtzmann leans forward in her chair and pops her gum, “Y’know, Gilbert, of all things, I wouldn’ta pegged you for a homophobe.” 

Erin pauses, steadies herself and swallows heavily to keep from screaming. “Not homophobic. This is marriage we are talking about here! You could have at least run this past me first.”

“The mayor wanted an answer on the spot. Sorry.” Abby says, looking anything but. In fact, she’s almost grinning.   
Erin doesn’t want to touch _that_ with a ten foot pole.

“This has got to be against some laws.” Erin drops into the chair and puts her head in her hands. 

Someone, who she’s pretty sure is Patty, rubs her shoulders in a way that she supposes is supposed to be comforting.   
Erin doesn’t feel comforted, though. She’s _pissed_.

“‘S not.” Patty says, “I would know.”

She would too. Sometimes Erin wishes that her teammate wasn’t _quite_ so knowledgeable on the intricacies of state laws. She huffs. “I can’t say no to this, can I?”

“Not really!” Abby chirps from somewhere behind her, sounding far too happy.

She’s not swayed immediately, but after thinking it over for a minute or so, she comes to a conclusion.   
She’s always valued the scientific method over anything resembling flights of fancy, and this idea does make sense.   
It makes logical sense. Despite how much she wishes it didn’t. “Fine…”

“Oh shit!” Patty exclaims, “You gals are gonna look so fine for this wedding!”

“Hey, Erin!?” Holtzmann calls from across the room.

Erin lifts her head from her hands for a moment, “What…?”

“Just remember, after all of this, we can get divorced.” Holtzmann grins, and winks.

Erin buries her head in her hands again and groans.  
Fuck.

 

-

 

It starts with a spike in ghost activity from a national park about two hours out of the city. 

“How big of a spike are we talkin’?” Abby asks, furiously typing on her laptop keyboard.

Holtzmann looks pensive. “Well, it’s not a ghost portal created by a tiny sociopath, but it’s up there. Maybe a seven?”

None of them are really sure what Holtzmann’s scale of measuring ghost activity actually is, but provided a ‘seven’ is out of a scale of ten, it’s not good.   
Not the end of the world, but not something they want escalating, either.

“Let’s suit up.” Erin says what they’re all thinking.

It’s only when they’ve travelled two hours out of the city that they think to Google what the place actually is.

It turns out that Sunny Skies is a couples retreat.   
And it either doesn’t know, or doesn’t care about the ghost activity happening inside its walls, for they are _vehemently_ not allowed inside. 

Apocalyptic threats to everyone’s very lives be damned.

“Do those dudes have a death wish?” Patty asks. She’s on her laptop in the car, while Holtzmann drives and the other two focus on stripping down into normal clothes in the most dignified way possible.   
Full-body coveralls get hot after a while, dammit!

“Seems like it.” Holtzmann replies, “Maybe they thought we’d scare the locals.”

Patty reads from her laptop, “Sunny Skies Retreat takes you away from the city life and puts you into an environment where you and your partner are our number one priority. Together, we help you take time out for your relationship. From meandering forests, to glimmering lakes, Sunny Skies has something for everyone. Our luxury lodge, complete with first-class spa facilities gives you the time out you need.” She chortled, “Gotta get me a man to go to one of these!”

“What’s the price tag?” Erin asks, voice muffled as she pulls a hoodie over her head.

Patty clicks a couple of times, “Actually, y’know what? Maybe not.” She shrugs, “These places are just for rich white folks anyways.”   
Clicking again, she reads, “We accept couples of all races, religions and sexualities.” She sniffs, “Ya wouldn’t know by the pictures.”

After a couple of moments of pondering of what could have been, Erin speaks, “Thanks, Patty. So, what do we do now?”

“We go to the Mayor.” Abby says. “He’ll have the power to get us in there.”

 

It turns out that the Mayor doesn’t have the power to get them into Sunny Skies. 

After dropping Holtzmann back at the firehouse (“I’ve got a thing that will be totally nuclear if I don’t watch it, pals!”), and Erin back at her apartment, (under the guise of needing to pick up some notes), Patty and Abby hightail it across the city to the Mayor’s Office.

“No-one gets into Sunny Skies unless they’re actually married.” Mayor Bradley exclaims, tying his tie in a mirror, “The owners are rich weirdos. We don’t want to piss them off.” 

“What the Mayor _means_ to say,” Jennifer, his much put-upon assistant says, “-is that the owners of Sunny Skies have a lot of power in the international community and we don’t want to flout their rules.”

“Rich weirdos, yeah.” The Mayor straightens his lapels. “That’s what I said.” 

“What should we do then?” Abby persists, “This is an _issue_ , Bradley, and it will be an even bigger one if we just leave it alone.” 

“Yeah!” Patty contributes, backing up her friend. She looks at the Mayor stonily.

“Look, girls.” The Mayor says, “We have resources at your disposal, but we can’t technically help you.”

Vehemently ignoring the word ‘girls’, Abby says, “What _can_ we do then?”

Jennifer interjects, after a momentary pause, “I think I have a solution.”

 

After Abby has stopped chortling, she says, “Oh, they’re going to _love_ this!”

Patty wipes tears from her eyes and remarks, “I bet y’all that I can get Holtzy to wear a dress.”

“Oh, you’re on.” 

 

-

 

Holtzmann is entirely too into the idea. She puts her metal chopsticks down and says, “An all expenses-paid trip to a forest lodge? Sweet! Can I bring my M-Gun prototype? It needs work.”

“Absolutely not.” Abby declares.

Holtzmann shrugs and makes a small noise. “Alright.”

-

Erin is not happy with the idea. It’s not that she’s got anything against marriage, or Holtzmann. It’s just that marriage isn’t something that she takes lightly. Her family brought her up to see marriage as an _institution_ , and they were very obviously not happy when she came out to them at the age of sixteen. Marrying someone for the purposes of a ruse just feels _wrong_. It’s not like she’s especially close to her family any more, but sometimes things just stick around from childhood.

“No offense, Holtzmann, but why couldn’t Kevin come along as my partner?” Erin says, stuffing a t-shirt into a bag with more force than she intends.

Holtzmann rolls her eyes very visibly from the corner. 

“Erin, honey, d’you remember what happened last time Kevin tried to lie?” Patty reminds her.

She does. It wasn’t pleasant.   
Ghosts, as a rule, don’t like being lied to.

“I love him.” Abby says, “But he’s as dumb as a box of rocks.” 

The feeling is mutual. He might be nice to look at (and he might be good at far more things than they realised at first), but he’s not very bright.

“Okay.” Erin sighs, and tries another tactic, “Why don’t you two go?”

Holtzmann huffs very audibly from the corner. 

“It’s not weird that you two get married.” Abby points between her and Holtzmann, “Because you two are never on the internet. No-one knows much about you at all. An office romance is totally plausible. Me and Patty? Not so much.”

“Yeah, Obama follows me on Twitter.” Patty says. Her tweets have become the stuff of legend. She’s got over a million followers (and that number is growing). “He’s cool.”

Abby doesn’t have quite the same reach, but the point still stands. It’d be weird for people who are in the public eye so much to suddenly develop a relationship. Not credible at all.

“I think it’ll be great, Erin.” Holtzmann couldn’t sound any more passive-aggressive if she tried. She hops off her stool, stretches and says, “So. When’s the wedding?”


	2. My Milkshake Brings all the Girls to the Yard

The news spreads quickly.

Kevin tells a member of his improv dance troupe - the Rusty Flamingos - who goes on to tell the waiter at his local pizzeria.  
The waiter tells the entirety of the New York underground Mathcore scene (a group consisting of four humans, two dogs, and the ghost of Kenneth Appel), one of whom knows a writer at the New York Post.

Buzzfeed, using their trademark subtle ‘internet journalism’ tweets Patty and asks:

 

_@buzzfeed - We've heard the exciting news about your coworkers getting married - can you confirm?_

  
Patty responds with -

 

_@pattytolan - Yes!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3_

 

because the only way to respond to the news that two of your best friends are getting married (even if it’s only a ruse) is with eight heart emojis and four emojis of girls holding hands.

She’s happy for them. Even if it’s only a ruse that will have no effect on their further lives. Obviously.

 

Tweets flood in from there. For a ghost-hunting unit that generally only hunts ghosts around the Greater New York area, they’re getting a lot of traction.

Even to the point where a hashtag - the aptly named ‘#ScienceGirlfriends’ starts trending in the US. It’s ridiculous. It’s Twitter.

 

_@ombreonyx - omg, i can't believe it! my otp's canon!!_

_@silentsunsh1ne - @ombreonyx you're seriously shipping real people?_

  _@ombreonyx - @silentsunsh1ne don't knock it till you've tried it #ScienceGirlfriends_

_@silentsunsh1ne - seriously.?_

 

Erin ignores three calls from her parents and decides to skip Christmas dinner this year. It’s probably for the best.

 

Holtzmann, however, seems to be taking the whole situation in her stride. When they’re visited at the firehouse the next day by a reporter from the New York Post, she seems to relish the attention.

Erin, settled in the corner with something that would be alcohol if they hadn’t been banned from drinking in the lab, is not so enthused.

 

“So… How did you girls meet?” The reporter, a young woman with a heavy Californian accent cooes. Erin thinks her name is Jamie, but she’s not really been listening.

“Well, actually, I had taken on a job as a bagel seller to keep an eye on this guy who we thought was a ghost - and _anyway,_ Erin bought a blueberry bagel from me one day and it was love at first sight.” Holtzmann drawls, as though she’s given that exact question some serious thought.

The reporter looks excited. “Really?!” She scribbles a note down on her notepad.

“No.” Erin interjects, deciding to give the poor girl a break. She climbs off her stool and moves over to the pair, “I’m sorry. She’s kidding. Uh, Jamie?”

“Jane.” The younger woman doesn’t look pleased.

“Jane. I’m sorry. It’s been a couple of emotionally trying days.” She says, although it was emotionally trying in the way that the reporter would never understand, “Holtzmann and I met when I had to… negotiate… a deal with my creative partner around the sale of my book. Last year. It’s not an interesting story, but it’s true.”

“Negotiate is one word for it.” Holtzmann mutters under her breath. “I remember a lot of yelling.”

She glares at her then. With faux sincerity, she says, “Honey, can we talk for a moment? Over here??”

She drags Holtzmann away from the reporter.

“What?” The other woman says. She looks genuinely confused.

“Can you… lay off… for a bit?”

“Lay off what?”

“Just with everything? My family’s probably disowned me, I’ve been outed to the whole world and I really cannot deal with everything right now.”

  
She’s flushed, hot and uncomfortable. The whole situation has made her incredibly anxious, and although she knows it isn’t as big a deal as it could be, and that they’re doing it for a good cause, she really wishes she could have had a say in the deal.

“Yeah.” Holtzmann looks more earnest than she’s ever been before. “I will.” She grabs Erin by the hand and pulls her back to the reporter.

(Erin’s going to pretend that the hand-holding doesn’t feel nice. She’s a grown woman, not a teenager with her first crush. Besides, this is all a _ruse.)_

-

A radio DJ called Darren “Dazzo” Edwards from Radio WYJX (“Not Your Usual 80s Rock”) hears about the news during his midday news bulletin.

  
“And in today’s top story, despite the fact there is a _literal war_ going on overseas, two members of the Ghostbusters’ ghost-hunting team are getting married. Jill Holtzmann, the crazy babe of the team, and Erin Gilbert, the one who looks like she’s a librarian porn parody waiting to happen, have hooked up and are getting married next week. Well, all I gotta say is at least it’s the hot ones. I wouldn’t mind being in the middle of that if you know what I mean.”

 

Apparently, no-one knows what he means.

Hell hath no fury quite like a bunch of pissed-off STEM majors.

 

Dazzo is suspended from the station within hours.

-

 

-

 

“You’re gonna wear a dress.” Patty tells Holtzmann a few hours later.

She wrinkles her nose, “No.”

“Yes.”

“But they’re _so_ impractical. Can’t I just wear a suit? At least suits have pockets.”

Patty puts her hands on her hips, appraising the other woman. “Honey, you don’t need pockets. You’re getting married.”

“Everyone needs pockets.”

“Everyone needs pockets except when they get married to someone they _love.”_ Patty says, very firmly. “Which you do, right?”

“The Holtzmann Times is closed for business right now.” Holtzmann says, picking up a screwdriver and fiddling with it, “No comment.”

“You are gonna wear a dress, Holtzy, for one day of your life or I swear -”

“Chill.” Holtzmann puts a hand on Patty’s arm placatingly. “I’ll wear the damn dress. _Please_ tell me it’s not pink.”

“Holtzy, brides don’t wear pink to weddings.”

 

 

A floor up in the firehouse, Abby and Erin are having pretty much the exact same conversation.

“ _Why_ did I agree to this?” Erin is lying on a crate in front of a window, eyes half-shut.

“You didn’t really _agree.”_ Abby laughs, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I have to get _married._ It’s a deal.”

“And then you have to go off to a retreat with a spa and lots of trees. Wow. What an ordeal.” The older woman says, very matter-of-factly. “Very strenuous.”

“We also have to stop a potential ghost emergency!” Erin opens one eye and fixes it on her best friend, “Don’t forget about that.”

Abby shrugs, “We’ve done it before.”

“But -”

“Erin.” Her tone turns serious for a moment. “You haven’t had a day off since _high school_. Remember when we caught that ghost in your apartment?”

“The massage therapist one?” Erin says, just deciding to go along with the point Abby is trying to make.

“Yeah, the one who was _specifically_ haunting you just to get you to go and get a massage? He said, and I quote, ‘you’re wound tighter than an eight day clock, how are you still alive?’”

“Ghost massage oil is not nearly as nice as the real thing.” Erin muses, “It’s slimier.”

“I do not want to know.” Abby says, vaguely disgusted, “But he had a point.”

“I had to wipe that stuff off me, dry.” She says, completely missing the point. “It was a bad time.”

“Gilbert!” Abby hollers, “Listen to me, dammit!”

“Wow.” Erin sits up, feeling vaguely insulted by her friend’s candor. “What?”

“You’re going to go away, _relax,_ spend some time with a good friend, and save the world. Calm down. How hard can that be?”

 


	3. The New York Post Article

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you truly lived if you haven't been featured in a New York Post article?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just to tide y'all over while I rejig the next chapter (the wedding chapter)  
> it's a bit of a weird order to post them in, but bear with me.

 


	4. The Wedding, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "With this ring, I thee wed..."

_August 13, 2016_

 

“Y’know.” Holtzmann says, from behind a screen on the far side of the room, “I never thought I’d get married on a boat.”

Erin steps carefully into her dress. They’ve finally been abandoned, Patty and Abby having taken off to oversee the last preparations for the actual ceremony. “Where did you think you’d get married?”

“Didn’t.”

“Really?” She doesn’t know if it’s a product of her heritage or something deeper that pangs at the thought. “You haven’t even thought about it?”   
She pulls her dress up over onto her shoulders, settling it carefully into place.

“Well… I thought there would be more cats.” Holtzmann drawls, “Or at least one.”

“I don’t know if cats really like boats that much.”

“Ha! You would think, but actually…”

Erin lets Holtzmann’s rambling wash over her as she fiddles with the laces on the back of the bodice of her dress. Or, at least, she tries to. Laces at the back of dresses tend to be a bit hard to do up at times. She sighs. She’s breaking enough wedding traditions, she may as well go as far to break all of them. “Holtz?”

“Ya?” Holtz stops in the middle of a sentence about wedding dresses for cats.

“Look, I usually wouldn’t ask because it’s breaking all kinds of rules,” Erin says, “But can you do me- do my dress up? I can’t reach the back.”

“Y’know, the bride isn’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding.” Holtzmann’s voice, teasing and too fond, floats back to her, “You rebel.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re a rebel, Erin Gilbert, remember that.” Holtzmann says, “I’ll do you up. Come out here.”

 

She isn’t prepared for the sight that greets her.

Somehow, she had still been clinging to the notion that Holtzmann would treat the whole event as a joke.

She had thought that the other woman would just turn up in her usual (eclectic) style.

That is absolutely, positively, definitely not the case.

Holtzmann’s dress is white, as is hers, and a two piece. The top is cropped, and tight around her chest, and the bottom flows out. It’s simple, but stunning. There’s no overalls in sight. Patty works  _wonders._

She’s not entirely sure if she’s ever been this taken aback before.

“Is it okay?” The other woman says, hesitantly, “Patty kept on adding flowers.”

Erin draws a breath.

The other woman’s hair is long and loose. She’s got a ridge of small flowers along the top of her head, and she is gorgeous.

Erin swallows. Her mouth feels dry. “Um… Yes. You look… yes. Good. How?.. Um. Good. Good. Stunning. Um.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” Holtzmann drawls, giving her a long, slow look.

Erin doesn’t feel like she is even comparable to the sheer damn goddess that is standing in front of her, but she nods, “Thank- thank you.”

Erin’s dress is tight in the bodice and floats out from the waist. It’s perfect for the hot summer weather they’re getting.

“So. The dress?” Holtzmann claps her hands. “If they’ve got you in a corset, I swear -”

“It’s not that bad.” She says, turning to show the back of the dress. It’s really not.

“Huh. Looks good.” The other woman steps up behind her and grabs the laces of the dress, fingers glancing over the skin at the top of Erin’s back.

She shivers. It’s not from the cold. Erin feels giddy. “Hey, Holtz?”

“Yeah?” Holtzmann tightens the laces a fair bit.

And perhaps it’s the wine she had earlier, or perhaps the lack of blood getting to her brain from the bodice of the dress, but she says, “We’re getting married on a boat. We’re pirates.”

“Huh!” Holtzmann laughs, her breath warm at the top of Erin’s back, “I guess we are.” She knots the laces on the bodice. “We’re good.”

“Thanks.” Erin turns to face her, winding their hands together.

“You know, for a fake wedding, I’m glad it’s you.”

“Same.” Holtzmann grips her hands tighter, “At least you’re not allergic to cats.”

Erin snorts. “Yes. Are you ready to go, Captain Holtzmann?”

“We’re getting married, Erin, Jill’s more fitting, don’t ya think?” Holtzmann smirks.

Erin coughs. Jill. Right. “Of course, Captain Jill. My mistake.”

“I’ll cast ye landlubber ass overboard if you’re not careful, Cap’n Erin.” Jill lets go and disappears behind her screen. She appears back a moment later, carrying her sandals.

Erin grabs her own and pulls them on. It’s lucky they’re both wearing flat shoes. They don’t need to make the height difference worse.

After Jill has put on her shoes, the pair link arms.

“Are you ready, Cap’n?” Jill asks.

“As much I’ll ever be, Holtzy.”

 

-

 

Patty, Kevin and Abby are waiting for them in a small anteroom off the larger ballroom on the ship.

Patty bursts into tears when she sees the pair. “I said I wouldn’t do this,” She sobs, “but my babies are getting married!!”

“Okay, alright, come here.” Abby says, in a conciliatory way, and opens her arms to the other woman. Patty leans down and cries into her shoulder while Abby pats her on the back carefully.

“Bit different to how you imagined it back in the day, isn’t it, Erin?” Abby comments.

Erin shoots her a Look. Now is not the time for her past. “No comment.”

“Look good, though.” Abby continues, “You too, Holtzy.”

Holtzmann shoots her a thumbs up with her free hand.

“You two look great!” Kevin says, “It’s like someone awesome picked out your dresses!” He steps forward and high-fives them both.

Kevin had, in fact, picked out their dresses. When they had discovered, a few months back, that Kevin had worked in an Upper East Side clothing store for a good few years, they had been surprised. When they had discovered that the man had an eye for good clothing and clothing maintenance, they had been even more surprised. It was like intelligence didn’t just manifest in book smarts or something.

“Thanks, Kev. ‘preciate it.” Holtzmann nods at him, “Shall we get this shit over with, then? There’s ghosts to hunt!”

“We’re really destroying the sanctity of marriage, aren’t we…” Erin nudges her in the waist with their linked arms. She laughs. She might be a little bit drunk.

“Aside from creating a machine that rains cats, that’s always been my life goal."


	5. Wedding, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We skip over most of the wedding as Erin slowly loses parts of her sanity.

_ August 13, 2016 _

_ (continued) _

 

Erin spaces out during the first half of the ceremony. Cheap wine, late nights, and sheer anxiety have combined to put her in a headspace that is something slightly less than sane. It’s not like it matters, though. She’s pretty sure it doesn’t show on her face.

They’ve had under a week to get this wedding together, which is why they’re on a boat. The crowd isn’t the biggest, with Bennie, four of Erin’s colleagues from Columbia (the only ones still talking to her) and the five members of the Rusty Flamingos taking up the majority of the space.

Erin’s family isn’t there, and she doubts they would have come even if she had invited them. 

Holtzmann’s family is also absent, and Erin still hasn’t managed to learn why. 

 

There are, of course, a gaggle of reporters perched awkwardly at the back of the room, but they don’t count. They’re not friends or family. They’re just there to make things look  _ good.  _ The ‘ruse’ factor of the whole ordeal is something that Erin just can’t forget. 

It hurts her, in more ways than one. 

 

She says her speech, a light thing that was picked for her by a management team of the Mayor’s. It has absolutely no meaning to her, and she almost feels sick as she says it. The remnants of her family’s Catholicism within her are rolling in their grave. Whatever joy she had felt about the whole event earlier in the day - the dressing up and the utter lack of slime - has gone. She smiles, though, and fakes it, because, in the end it’s _got_ to look believable. 

And that is the problem. It just feels wrong, because they’re just deceiving people for something that mightn’t even be an issue. Readings can be misread. 

Sunny Skies mightn’t even be the hub of ghost activity that they think it is.

They might be causing all of this trouble, and deception, and  _ influence,  _ for no reason at all.

 

Like it or not, the Ghostbusters have influence. 

Erin’s seen many tweets in the last few days that have said things along the lines of, ‘if these two can get married, I might be able to’, and ‘if she can come out and everyone’s fine with it, maybe i’ll be able to, someday’. She doesn’t want to hurt young queer kids by lying to them, but it’s too late now. 

 

Despite any other thoughts Erin might have, this wedding, at its heart, is a sham.

 

“Jillian.” Their officiant, an Irish judge they saved from a Class IV one time, speaks, pulling Erin from her thoughts. “Pick up Erin’s ring and repeat after me.”

Holtzmann does so, slipping it from a case she retrieves from a pocket in her dress (and Erin is hardly surprised that Holtzmann manages to have pockets in a  _ dress).  _

She mouths, “You alright?” to Erin, and she nods slowly back.

“Erin, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Erin, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

If they don’t stop whatever thing is ‘apparently’ happening at Sunny Skies, the rest of their lives mightn’t be very long. Erin  _ definitely  _ doesn’t feel a bit of a thrill at the thought of actually spending her life with someone, though.

“I vow to love you as long as we both shall live.”

“I vow to love you as long as we both shall live.”

Despite the obvious scripted nature of the lines, the thought is still nice. Maybe, after all of this has blown over, she will find someone who can say these things and mean them. She doesn’t want to think about how Holtzmann is feeling right now.

“And with this ring, I take you to be my lawfully wedded wife, my partner-in-crime, my constant friend, and my love from this day forward.”

Holtzmann parrots, and winks at Erin.

Yes, perhaps Holtzmann is having the time of her life. Lucky for some.

 

“Erin.” The man says, turning to her.

She takes a breath.

“Pick up Jillian’s ring and repeat after me.”

She collects Holtzmann’s ring from a small table next to them (she has not been blessed with the power of pockets), her hands shaking visibly. 

“Jill, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Jill, I want to spend the rest of my life with you…”

 

And when all vows are said, and wedding anxiety is (not quite) done, James says, “tonight is all about love. It has been my honour to officiate your ceremony tonight. By the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss your wife.”

 

And,  _ although  _ Holtzmann is a very good kisser,

And,  _ although  _ Erin doesn’t particularly want it to stop,

She’s really not feeling it right now.

 

The wedding is over. She can hear everyone clapping, but she’s more focussed on Holtz- Jill- her  _ wife.  _

Having a wife isn’t something she had ever really considered. It’s not  _ terrible _ . She does feel a bit shaky, though.

Amid the cheering, Holtzmann asks, “Seriously, are you alright?” apparently being completely able to instantly compartmentalize the fact that they’ve just become spouses.

“I’m… fine.” 

She is.

And she isn’t. 

It’s a work in progress.


	6. A Hat-Based Send Off

_ Sunday 21st August 2016 _

 

The next week passes without incident. They’re married, but it’s not like it changes anything, aside from the very metal (and sometimes very dangerous) ring that she has to wear every time she goes out in public.

They were only able to start at the retreat from the 21st of August (something about schedules and VIP guests - Erin wasn’t really paying attention when they explained it) so they’ve really just been doing their normal jobs.

No need for a honeymoon when you’re going to a couple’s retreat, after all.

The team busts a Class II in a garage in Brooklyn, another Class II (this one just a pair of floating hands) from an attic in Queens, and narrowly avoid an incident with a man with a knife in Hell’s Kitchen. It’s a standard week, really, aside from the reporters that seem to be hiding around every corner for any sort of post-wedding buzz.

There isn’t any, of course. They might be married, but they’re not  _ married.  _ A reporter could get blood out of a stone faster than any sort of declaration of love from the pair.

It’s a marriage of convenience. That’s all.

 

Erin’s not going to say that the wedding ring doesn’t feel good though.  
It’s a nice piece of metal, and she finds that Holtzmann’s even had the inside of it engraved with a Latin saying she hasn’t looked up. Knowing Holtzmann, it’ll probably be something like, ‘I think you’re unboolievable’ and she doesn’t quite have the sheer amount of will to survive a pun that bad yet. 

 

They pack the most minimal equipment that they can fit in their bags. They are a happy couple after all. Ghostbusting isn’t something that they’re going to do. Obviously.

She taps anxiously on the lid of her suitcase once she manages to get it closed. It’s not much equipment for a potentially large threat. It mightn’t be enough.

Holtzmann, on the other hand, is trying to secrete Skittles all about her person and bags. Word is, Sunny Skies takes a dim view on anything that isn’t completely organic and completely healthy. As someone who drinks enough coffee to power a small truck, this isn’t the greatest news for one Erin Gilbert.

 

Someone from the retreat comes to collect them from Holtzmann’s apartment which is a couple of blocks from the firehouse. Erin’s been inside. It’s what a warzone would look like if the opponents weapons of choice were candy and clothing. She’s not entirely sure if she ever wants to go back inside.

Five people come to send them off. The Mayor; who looks particularly disgusted to be spending time where people actually walk, Jennifer; whose micromanaging seems to be driving everyone else mad, Kevin; who mightn’t actually realise that the wedding was a ruse and that they  _ are  _ investigating ghosts, and Patty and Abby.

Erin would prefer the latter three, but you can’t have everything.

 

“You need to promise to tell every dog you see ‘hi’ from me, okay?” Kevin says to Holtzmann, who is leaning against a tree, an arm shading her face.

“Of course, Kev.” She gives him two thumbs up.

“Also, you need to take this.” He says, more earnestly, pulling a small ball of something blue out of his pocket and giving it to her.

She examines it for a second and tosses it to Erin, who barely manages to catch it. It’s a small ball of blue yarn, tightly wound. She puts it in her purse and says, “Thanks, Kev!” 

She’ll dispose of it somewhere later.

 

“No probs, Erin! I knit, and I thought that it might be good for any kittens you see when you’re hanging out in that forest.” Kevin nods, his logic making complete sense to him.

“You knit, man?” Holtzmann high-fives him. “Cool!”

 

They chat about the validity of knitting for a bit, and Erin is nearly on the verge of completely zoning out when Patty strides over to her.

“Keep an eye on her, yeah?” She says, brusly, indicating to Holtzmann with a nod of her head.

“Why would I… not?” Erin’s not completely on the defensive, but it’s close.

“I’m just sayin’.” Patty pats her on the shoulder, “And keep an eye on yourself, too. I don’t know what shit you’re walkin’ into, but it could be somethin’ big.”

“I know.” She fiddles with the handle of her suitcase. “I will.”

“Good.” Patty sweeps her into a hug that’s just a tad too tight for someone currently dealing with the amount of nervous energy that Erin is.

When they break apart, Patty says, “Yeah, and tell her how you feel, right? Cause, I had this friend who totally didn’t do that and now she lives in Canada and-”

“What?” Erin says, because her feelings for Holtzmann at this present point of time at least don’t extend much further than serious friendship and a good place to find Skittles.

“You’ve got a thing for her, right?”

“What?” Erin says again, but is stopped from saying anything more by the appearance of Abby.

 

“Hi, gang!” She says, looking cheery beyond words.

“Gang?” Erin questions, because apparently all her life has become lately is a series of question marks and very few instances where she actually knows what is going on.

“Gang? Pals? Eh…” Abby trails off, looking perplexed, “I was going for the gender-neutral thing, but it needs work. Anyway. You be good.” She punches Erin gently in the shoulder-blade to punctuate her point.

“Yes, mom.” Erin punches her back in what is probably an overly vigorous manner. 

“Don’t go having too much fun, you hear?” 

“I’m going to a couples retreat to play House with a woman I’m not actually married to and also possibly catch some ghosts. Not exactly my definition of fun.”

Patty and Abby exchange a look in what appears to be a long-suffering way.

“Wow, Erin. A retreat with a spa and meals cooked for you and the only downside is that you have to be a bit close with Holtz for two weeks? Truly tragic.” Abby huffs. “Come  _ on _ , Erin!”

“Yeah, and if they have any tiny hotel soaps n stuff like that you should steal me some.” Patty says, “I love that shit.”

“Actually, we have an entire tub of those back in the lab!” Abby says, remembering. “We’ve hunted so many ghosts in hotels before, so we just take them.”

“Holy shit.” Patty breathes. She hugs Erin again. “Look, I’d love to stay around and chat but I have an entire box of hotel shower gel to find.” She drags Abby off, the latter woman waving a hand in a very laissez-faire ‘i’m sorry about this’ motion. 

 

The Mayor and Jennifer depart as well, saying that they have a ‘very important brunch’ to attend. Erin concedes. Brunch is very important.

 

She’s left on the pavement with Holtzmann and Kevin, the pair who have now moved on to talking about the importance of good hats.   
  
She’s never actually realised how similar the pair are before now. They’re both gorgeous blondes with odd skills and a very specific dress sense. Holtzmann, however, is book smart, while Kevin is… smart in other ways (like stain removal and obscure facts about Sweden). Maybe she has a type.

She snaps that train of thought off before it devolves into anything further.

 

“Yo, yo, Gilbert!” Holtzmann says, realising that they’re all alone, “Where’d everyone go?”

“Shower gel and brunch.” She answers by way of very lousy explanation.

Holtzmann shrugs. “Fair enough. Brunch needs no excuses.”

“I know, right?!”

“Anyway…” Kevin says, looking between them, “I gotta go. I promised Abby I’d work today. Good luck on the married thing?” He walks off, after tipping his fedora at them, conveniently  _ not  _ in the direction of the firehouse.

 

“He’s gotta stop doing that.” Holtzmann stares after him, with a barely concealed veil of disgust. “Does he know how many people will think he’s a douche?”

“We should tell him.”

“Yeah…”

They don’t say anything for a moment.

 

“So… married.” Erin says, rocking back into her heels, “How’s that treating you?”

“Oh, I love it.” Holtzmann brightens, “ _ Way  _ less dudes hit on me in the club now that I have a wedding ring.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” The other woman exclaims, “And if they keep trying I just say that I have a super hot wife at home and that I’m  _ really  _ gay.”

Erin coughs awkwardly and feels herself beginning to blush. “Does that work?”

“Well…” Holtzmann says with a long considering look, “I mean, I’m open to threesomes on the right occasions, but I figured you wouldn’t be.”

“No comment.”

“Wow, kinky.” She laughs.

 

Thankfully, a car pulls up alongside them then, and she manages to not think about where the conversation could possibly be going.

 

“You’re for Sunny Skies, right?” The driver pokes his head out of the window. He’s greying in the beard area and wearing a chauffeur's hat. “Erin and Jillian?”

It’s nice not to be recognised on sight. “Yes.”

“Rad.” The man parks the car and opens the door. “I’m Eric. I’ll be your driver for today.”

The man is wearing a chauffeur’s hat, but everything else about him screams ‘middle aged dad on a family trip to Hawaii’. He’s wearing the most vibrant pink Hawaiian shirt that Erin’s ever seen, as well as cargo pants. The comparison is startling.

“Love the shirt, dude.” Holtzmann high-fives the man. “I’m Jill. That’s Erin.”

“Hi.” Erin goes for a handshake and is met with a fist bump. She shrugs and goes with it. 

Why not?

“We’ll just be getting your stuff into the car then.” Eric says, and lifts her suitcase into the trunk of the car without being asked. 

Holtzmann mouths ‘he’s just like me but with a beard!’ and Erin shrugs back, grinning. 

 

“Alright, gals.” Eric says, once their luggage is loaded. “Our travel time is about two and a half hours, traffic dependent. Shall we get this show on the road?”

 

It’s not such a bad start, considering.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been very ill for the last couple of days. This mightn't be as legible as it could be.
> 
> Here's a question for y'all. Do you know where/what Norfolk Island is (without Googling)? Leave your answer in the comments. 
> 
> check me out on the tumbs  
> [my gb blog](http://pansexualjillianholtzmann.tumblr.com)  
> [my main blog](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com)
> 
> or on the twits  
> [skyuni123](http://twitter.com/skyuni123)


	7. Arrival at Sunny Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gal pals arrive at Sunny Skies, but something odd is afoot.

_ Sunday 21st August 2016 _

 

They’re driven straight through the gates of Sunny Skies and let out in front of a rustic-looking wood cabin. Eric gets their luggage out of the trunk of the car and says, “You gals have a nice time. Don’t go outside at night.” With that chilling ending, he takes the car and drives back the way he came.

“Creepy.” Erin remarks, a little bit shellshocked.

Holtzmann shrugs, “He was nice enough. Make some conversation that’s not about ghosts while I scan the place for bugs, eh?”

“Bugs?” They’re not in a spy film.

Holtzmann gives her a look that seems like it should convey, ‘isn’t it obvious?’ and opens the door. Erin lifts her luggage up onto the porch of the building and follows.

 

“So, that guy Eric was nice.” She says, a bit too loudly as Holtzmann gets a detector out of her pocket. Erin’s never really been subtle.

“The hat and shirt combo? Genius!” Holtzmann says, as she holds the detector up to one of the walls and starts moving it rhythmically across. “Surfer chic.”

“Surfer chic, yes.” Erin parrots. “This place is nice, isn’t it?”

And it is.

The interior is white with windows over almost every wall. There’s a fireplace on one wall (which is  _ perfect  _ for summer, Erin thinks ruefully), as well as what looks like antique furniture perfectly placed about the entire room. She trails a hand over the smooth wooden edge of one of the bookshelves and sighs. It’s not like she’s ever been poor, and the salary for a college lecturer is nothing to scoff at - but, wow. This place reeks of class.

“How much did we pa-”

“I didn’t ask.” Holtzmann says, furrowing her brow.

 

Erin opens the door to her left and finds a bedroom, tasteful in its simplicity, with a window overlooking a small stream. There’s only one bed. She leaves that thought for now.

She opens another door within the bedroom and finds a giant closet. 

Holtzmann, who has at this point moved into the bedroom, glances inside and says, “That’s bigger than my entire apartment.”

Erin, who has been to Holtz’s apartment, agrees.

 

She opens another door and finds that it leads to a bathroom, all clean white furnishings and  shiny metal. The toiletries provided seem like they’d be worthwhile ‘liberating’ for further use after this adventure was over.

Leaving the bedroom, she opens the final door and finds herself in a short corridor. On one side, there’s a small alcove with a kettle and a few other kitchen items, and on the other there is another door. 

Opening it, she is graced with the sight of an expansive yard area, backed by trees. It has a grill, an outside bed under an overhang, and a-

“Holtzmann!”

The other woman comes running immediately, eyes wide.

 

“We have a jacuzzi!”

“Neat…” The other woman breathes, “I haven’t been in one of those since college. There’ll be far less people tryin’ to bang in it at least.” She takes Erin by the arm and pulls her outside onto the patio.

It is cool in the mid-afternoon air, and far quieter than the city is. It’s odd to be in a place that doesn’t have cars going past every few seconds, but it’s not silent. Birds chirp overhead.

“For the record,” Holtzmann says in a low voice, breath brushing Erin’s ear, “there’s a bug in every room. Audio, not visual, but I can’t stop them transmitting. No ghosts in the house, okay?”

“Okay.” Erin says, breath hitching. “Do you want to… like… talk about ‘not ghost stuff’ inside?”

“I’d like that.” Holtz says, releasing her.

 

Before they are able to do so, however, a deep American voice comes from out of nowhere, startling Erin.

“Could all couples please make their way to the Discussion Parlor immediately.” The voice says, “Follow the signs located outside your lodges.”

Holtzmann mouths ‘Discussion Parlor’ with a vaguely-disgusted look on her face.

Erin violently remembers that they are in fact on a retreat with other romantic couples, and they have to talk about themselves and associate with other (presumably romantic) people. Joy.

 

-

 

The ‘Discussion Parlor’ is an ornate room full with equally as ornate couches. They are the first ones there, but there appears to be space for at least another ten people.

Erin takes a seat on a red couch with metallic gold trim and tries desperately not to move any further than she has to. 

Holtzmann, however, slouches back on the couch and drops her legs on Erin’s lap. 

“Hey!” Erin says, trying to push her off.

“I didn’t want to put my boots on the furniture.”

“I am not a boot stand, Holtz! This place is for rich people. C’mon.” 

Holtzmann huffs, rolls her eyes very violently, and shifts position again, this time sitting up and draping an arm over Erin’s shoulders. It’s better, but not by much. “Look how married we are!” She exclaims, and Erin can’t help but agree. They do look very married.

 

“Oh honey look, it’s some lesbians!” A posh voice, followed by an even posher woman enters the room. She’s British, and if a country could have a look, she’d have it. She’s stastuesque, very pale, blonde, and gorgeous. 

She’s followed by a ginger man, even taller than she, who has the build and gait of an ox.

Holtzmann raises an eyebrow, “Close enough.” 

Erin’s sexuality has always fallen on the ‘shrugging of shoulders and going with the flow’ end of the spectrum, but she doesn’t say anything. 

“Right, you two are the ‘Ghostbusters’.” The woman laughs, a high, effortlessly micromanaged sound. “What is it like having a fictional occupation?”

“It’s certainly engrossing.” Erin says, slowly, trying not to visibly grit her teeth. She doesn’t like people like this. People like this are the sort of people who made her go to therapists for ten years for her ‘delusions’. When the evidence is there how can people ignore it?

“I bet.” The woman examines one of her nails. “I’m Duchess Olivia McLoughlin, by the way. He’s Duke Albert McLoughlin. Have you heard of us?”

She doesn’t offer them a handshake.

“Nope.” Holtzmann pops the ‘p’. “My Captain and I spend too much time studying fake science for that.” She sounds indifferent, but Erin can feel her beginning to bristle against her side.

“Captain?” Erin mouths. The name hasn’t been used since the wedding day. Or, at least she thinks so. The whole day was a bit of a blur.

Holtzmann shrugs and whispers, “do you really want me to say babe?”

 

Holtzmann has a point. They can work on pet names later.

 

“I’m Doctor Erin Gilbert.” Erin says, purposefully not offering a handshake back. “That’s Doctor Jillian Holtzmann. I’m a physicist, she’s a nuclear scientist. If you want to knock our current profession, that’s fine, but don’t diminish our titles,  _ Duchess. _ ”

The Duchess shrugs, “Your occupation isn’t my concern, Doctor.”

Leading her yet-unresponsive husband, she sits on another couch, opposite them. Her husband still doesn’t speak.

The silence is jarring. The Duchess, upon her entry into the room, had decided a very specific thing about them, and refused to recognise anything but.

 

“So -” Erin begins, but is interrupted by the Duchess.

“What must it have been like for your poor parents to have a daughter who is so fully enraptured with the notion of ‘ghosts’?” She laughs again, “Quite a team of Ghost Girls you’ve got there.”

The faint anger that has been humming under the surface of Erin’s skin since the Duchess entered the room threatens to explode. “How illegal is it for me to punch a Duchess in the face?” She asks Holtzmann, barely under her breath.

“Very.” The other woman draws her closer and says, “I wouldn’t risk it.” She grasps Erin’s hand with her free hand, stroking her thumb over her palm. Addressing the room, she says, “So you believe that everything that happened in New York last year was fake, right?”

“It was a mass hallucination.” The Duchess shrugs. “Chemicals in the water.”

“Shit.” Holtzmann sounds  _ disgusted.  _ “With that level of delusion... if you were American you’d be voting for Trump.”

“Probably.” The Duchess agrees, and looks like she’s about to say more, when her speech is interrupted by two more people entering the room. 

 

They’re heartbreakingly young, probably early-20s, and casually dressed. She is a redhead, and vaguely pink from the sun. He is bearded, with olive skin and dark hair tied up in a ponytail.

“Oh, Olivia.” The young woman snarls. Her accent is something Erin doesn’t quite recognise. It sounds vaguely Australian, vaguely Kiwi, and vaguely something else in between. “It did have to be you. When they said we were getting a Duchess. I thought it’d be one of the  _ nice  _ ones.”

“Emily!” The Duchess bites back, “Are you still unemployed?”

“No, actually.” The aforementioned Emily responds, “My show is rating well, thanks.” 

“And how’s your family, Harry?” The Duchess asks, “do they still want to disown you for being gay?”

“I have a wife now.” Harry says, stiffly. “Not gay.” His accent is New York, through and through. As if to prove it, he and Emily share a quick kiss.

“Wow, maybe those camps do work after all…” The Duchess muses, brushing a hand through  the loose waves of her hair.

“Those camps are a human rights offense.” Emily sits on a chair and crosses her legs on the seat. “But you wouldn’t know, eh, Olivia?”

“At least I don’t sleep around."

“Honey.” Emily looks the other woman up and down slyly, “What Harry and I do in our own private bedroom, and who we choose to spend time with is entirely up to us. Not all of us are quite as voyeuristic as you. None of us here want to be caught by tabloid reporters blowing dudes in public bathrooms. How’s the Daily Star going, by the way?”

The Duchess seems to lose her composure momentarily and flushes a little. “That was a rumour.”

“Was it?” Emily drawls, “There were pictures. I’m totally here for sexual agency and all, but c’mon, you were married at the time.”

 

Before proceedings can escalate into a full-on, all-out catfight, another couple enters the room. She’s short, well dressed, and with mousy brown hair. He’s nearly the same height as her, but with sand blonde hair, a suit, and glasses.

“Hello everyone!” The woman says. “How are we all doing today?” 

Erin doesn’t answer. By the look on her face, Holtz doesn’t look like she wants to answer either.

The Duchess smiles wanly. “I am Duchess Olivia McLoughlin. This is my husband, Duke Albert McLoughlin. We’re both fine.” 

“I see.” The brunette says. “I’m Sarah. I’m the coordinator of this camp, and one of the retreat leaders. Does your husband speak?”

“Yes.” Albert says. His voice is gravelly and unpleasant.

“Good!” Sarah says. She seems pleased with this result. “This is my partner, everyone.”

“I am James.” James says. “I’m the other retreat leader, as well as one of your intimacy counsellors.”

 

Intimacy councillors? Erin swallows. This doesn't sound… good.

 

“Before we get properly started, I’d just like to say that Sunny Skies is fully supportive of diverse races, genders, sexualities, and religions.” Sarah smiles. From what Erin’s seen of her demeanour so far, that seems like her default expression. “We’re waiting on a couple of men from New Jersey, but they arrived early this morning and have gone hiking, so why don’t we just introduce ourselves while we wait? Your name, favourite colour, where you’re from, and a random fact about you.  Jillian, you start.”

Holtzmann starts. “Doctor Jillian Holtzmann. Holtzmann is fine.” She lifts her hands, trying to gesture what she actually means. “My favourite color is probably that weird maroony-red shade that looks like what fall tastes like. I’m from New York. I once built a robot to woo someone and it didn’t work out.” 

“Really?” Erin nudges her, “I didn’t know that.”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Good!” Sarah crows. “Erin, you’re up.”

“I’m Doctor Erin Gilbert. My favorite color is olive green.” She says it, and doesn’t know why. She’s not really thought about a favorite color in the last ten years or so. “I’m also from New York. I once tried to seduce Leonardo Dicaprio on a dare.”

“No way.” Holtzmann stares at her, eyes wide open. “Did it work?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Erin pats her on the arm. 

“Good, good.” Sarah says. Her smile is practised and doesn’t waver. “Duchess?”

The Duchess says something about cats and boats and London. Her husband mentions golfing and ties. 

 

Erin’s not really listening, too caught up in her thoughts about the retreat, the wedding, and how ludicrous this whole situation is.

 

Sarah asks Emily to introduce herself, but is interrupted when a pair run into the room. 

Both are casually dressed in exercise gear. One of the men is ginger-haired, with an equally as ginger beard and is hastily trying to pull a checkered shirt over his fluorescent yellow workout gear. The other man combs a hair through his dark hair and winces as it comes away damp. He takes a seat on the final ornate couch and pulls his partner down to sit with him. The pair both look like they’re in their 30s, but Erin’s never really been that great with ages.

 

“Cal! Jacob!” James looks pleased to see them. “Did your hike go well?”

“‘Was good.” The dark-haired man says, still a bit out of breath. “We found a waterfall. Took some pictures.”

“That’s good to hear.” James continues, “Now, we are in the middle of introducing ourselves, but the people who have gone so far are Holtzmann, Erin, Olivia and Alfred.” He indicates at the others in the room as he says their names, “Why don’t you two introduce yourselves?”

The ginger man takes a breath and says, “Cal. I’m from New Jersey. I like hiking.” His answers are short and snappy and he doesn’t look particularly comfortable as he speaks.

“Forgive my friend here.” The dark-haired man grabs his partner’s hand, ignoring how sweaty the pair continue to be. “He’s not exactly a fan of… group situations. I’m Jacob. I live in New Jersey, and I’m a designer. I design covers for romance novels actually. Yeah, before you say anything, I know.”

 

“So, where are you  _ actually  _ from?” The Duchess asks brightly.

 

“Hoo boy....” Holtzmann says under her breath, and turns away from the situation, resting her chin on Erin’s shoulder.

Erin’s not exactly complaining.

Even though the situation that made it happen it is incredibly uncomfortable.

 

“I’m a second-generation Atlantic City resident.” Jacob says slowly, “But I take it you’re bringing this whole thing down to race, huh? I’m Indian. Where are you from?”

“London.”

“No, I mean where are you  _ actually  _ from?” Jacob doesn’t look particularly happy. “Since this is about parentage? Ireland? Scandinavia? Scotland?”

The Duchess deigns not to answer.

 

“Anyway, I think we’ll move swiftly on to Emily and Harry.” Sarah says, clearly trying to ignore what just happened. 

“I’m Emily…” The young woman says, casting an awkward glance at the Duchess. “My fav colour is purple. I’m from… somewhere near Australia - yeah, that’ll do, and I have the second season of a television show coming out on HBO soon that y’all should check out.”

“Near Australia?” Erin questions, before she can help herself.

“Okay, so have you heard of Norfolk Island?” 

“Is that one of the Canadian ones…?”

“T' save Yew we'll go with Ostrielya..” The girl mutters under her breath. She heaves a long-suffering sigh, “Near Australia is fine.”

“Alright!” Sarah claps her hands. Her smile, although very practised, looks like it’s beginning to fray. “Harry?”

“Harry. I’m training to be a banker. Originally from Rarotonga, now from here. My wife is pretty great.” He looks at her and grins.

 

“Thank you, everyone.” James says, opening a folder. “Now that we’re all introduced, we’re going to quickly go over our program for the next two weeks.” He hands a pile of papers to Cal, who is sitting closest to him. “Take the one with your name on it and pass it on.”

“We here at Sunny Skies know how  _ hard  _ the transition period from being a romantic couple to being married can be.” Sarah explains. “We’re here to ease that step. Feelings can change, tensions can arise and you might have trouble taking your relationship to this next step. Don’t worry, though, out of all the couples who have come to Sunny Skies in the last ten years, we’ve only had one divorce.”

 

Soon to be two, Erin thinks, and feels oddly uncomfortable at the thought.

 

“We’ll be having some group workshops.” Sarah continues, “As well as couple sessions and one-on-one discussions. These sessions are all mandatory, as we don’t want to waste anyone’s time.” She smiles gently. “Don’t worry, though, they are fun!” 

Erin’s handed the pile of paper. She shuffles through and finds a sheet with her name on it. Passing it to Holtz, she continues to listen.

“Aside from the mandatory sessions, you’ll find plenty to do around the retreat. We all want you to become comfortable with your partners and your relationship around other people.” 

James says, “Meals can be served in our dining room or in your cabins. The piece of paper you’re now holding contains your schedule for the next two weeks. Make sure to familiarise yourself with it.” 

“That’s about all we have to say for now,” Sarah says, “So we’re going to set out some afternoon tea because I believe you all had significant journeys to get here.”

 

Erin hadn’t realised it before now, but now she’s been made aware of it, hunger is clawing at her stomach.

 

“One more thing.” Sarah warns, “Make sure you stay in your cabins after nightfall.” 

“Why?” Jacob asks.

“Our retreat is built over a network of caves and tunnels.” The woman says in a perfect version of the literary device known as ‘ominous foreshadowing’. “It’s dangerous at night if you don’t know where you’re going. We wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

And with that chilling indictment, she tells them to mingle and get to know each other. 

 

-

 

Later, when they’ve all stuffed themselves with mini muffins and banana bread (the free food is one of the perks coming out of this situation), the ghostbustin’ gal pals head back to their cabin.

“Y’know…” Holtzmann says quietly, to her left, “There’s no tunnels underneath this place. It’s all soft soil. They wouldn’t last.”

“Then what -”

“I don’t know.” Her partner replies grimly, “But I do know that Sarah is lying to us.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY A LONGER CHAPTER! WOO!
> 
> check me out on the tumbs  
> [my gb blog](http://pansexualjillianholtzmann.tumblr.com)  
> [my main blog](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com)
> 
> or on the twits  
> [skyuni123](http://twitter.com/skyuni123)


	8. A Bloody Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S**t happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for excessive amounts of blood and descriptions of medical stuff near the end of the chapter  
> skip this if you need to, it's not vital to the overarching story.

_ Sunday, 22nd of August _

PM

 

Their dinners are lavish, filling and very healthy when they arrive. They eat mainly in silence. It’s odd, having so much that they should be talking about and so much that they can’t talk about. When your job is your life in the way that theirs is, it’s bizarre not being able to talk about it.

Nightfall comes quickly. By this time, they’re outside, sitting in the gloom of the backyard, legs dangling in the jacuzzi. It’s not actually on, but that doesn’t matter. Erin’s lying on her back, looking at the sky that seems so clear away from the city.

“Did you ever think you’d get married?” Holtz asks suddenly, kicking water up with her feet.

“I was gradually losing hope.” She says slowly, considering.

“Why?”

“I’m not exactly… young.”

“Erin, you’re not even halfway to the approximate age that humans live to. Don’t be dumb.” Holtz nudges her in her side with a damp hand. “Why didn’t you think you’d get married?”

“Well, I guess I did. Just not to a woman.”

Holtzmann shrugs, “It’s not like it was even legal in the entire country till last year. ‘S not surprising.”

“Grandma Gilbert must be rolling in her grave.” Erin says, considering. The inevitable ejection from her family hasn’t been something she’s exactly too happy about.

“Own that shit.”

“What?”

“ _ Own  _ that shit.” Holtz says fiercely. “If they can’t tolerate that you’re married to a woman, or that you like women as well as dudes or whatever, that’s their problem. You own it. It’s a part of you, just like your excellent taste in snack foods and terrible fashion sense.”

“I guess…” She sighs. Dealing with families is never easy.

“Speaking of..” Holtz continues, “Want Skittles?”

“Yeah.” 

Holtzmann drops a handful of Skittles on her stomach from God knows where. Erin examines them the best that she can in the semi-dark. They seem edible enough.

“If thi- w- reol, wou.. the mar-age be... tolerab..?” She asks, voice muffled from what Erin presumes are Skittles.

“Wha-” Erin pauses, swallows her handful of Skittles and says again, “What?”

“If this thing was real… if we were actually in love or whatever, would you still feel as bad about the marriage?”

 

It’s certainly a question. If she cared for the other woman in a way that was more romantic, if she  _ loved  _ her, would she still feel trapped by the ghosts of her family’s past? The question makes her uncomfortable. She shifts awkwardly. “I don’t know. Honestly. It’s a what-if I can’t even answer because it’s not feasible.”

“Okay.” Holtzmann, suddenly subdued for a reasons that Erin can’t discern, pulls her legs out of the pool and stands up. “Gotta go. Gonna find out about those power signatures.”

“But Sarah said that we shouldn’t go out at night!” She sits up, and also pulls her legs out of the jacuzzi. 

“She was obviously lying. I’ll be fine.” Holtz taps her on her head gently. “You stay here. Make some noise. Make it seem like we’re both here. I won’t be long.”

“Sure…” Erin says, slowly. She feels like she’s missed something but she has no idea what.

 

-

Erin’s flipping through a magazine, vaguely reading an article from an old Brides magazine about Sunny Skies. She’s actually more lost in her head. This time, however, she’s not angsting about her fake marriage, but more about her friends back in New York.

 

Her friends (Abby, Patty, and even Kevin - because someone had to take over for them in the team during their absence) are currently running down a train tunnel away from a ghost driver, his ghost train, and their ghost passengers. Erin, however, is not to know that.

 

Her couch-lying, magazine-reading spell is interrupted by the door to the cabin flying open, and someone catching it before it can hit the wall. 

Erin pokes her head up from behind the couch and to her horror, sees Holtzmann with half of her torso and all of her right shoulder blade drenched in blood.

“What the f-” She’s shushed by Holtz, just before the latter collapses on the floor just inside the door.

Erin leaps up from the couch with a speed she never knew she possessed. She rushes over to the other woman, just as she’s clambering onto a chair.

“You have to go to a doctor.” She hisses, mindful of the bugs, even though she really doesn’t give much of a damn to them at the present moment.

“And do what?” Holtz whispers furiously under her breath, “Tell them that I got attacked by a bunch of dogs because I was snooping? No. You sew me up.”   
Her pupils are completely blown out and she’s very pale. The bleeding needs to be stopped before it gets too dangerous. 

“Fuck.” Erin breathes, knowing she has no other alternative. “Come on then.”   


Supporting the woman by her non-bleeding arm, she half-carries her into the bathroom. The blonde sinks down on the toilet with a muffled groan.

“Take your shirt off.” Erin says, because although the other woman’s shirt is visibly torn, she cannot see the wound. There’s so much blood.

 

She’s not blushing as she says it. Really. She’s not. 

 

She hustles out of the bathroom to grab her field medical kit out of her suitcase. It’s only really been packed for emergencies. She didn’t expect to have to use it on the first day. It’s not a great start.

 

When she gets back into the bathroom, Holtzmann’s shucked her shirt and thrown the bloodied thing in the sink. 

As she unpacks the suture kit from the first aid box, Erin cannot help but notice the slogan on the other woman’s bra. “Scientists do it better?”

“Huh? Oh yeah -” Holtz’s head lolls back, so she’s looking at Erin, bleary-eyed. “- should see the rest of the set, if ya get my drift.” She glances down slowly.

 

Erin’s hand movements still.

 

“‘M sorry.” The blonde waves her uninjured hand. “‘M delirious. Think so at least.”   
  


“Yes.” She finds the saline solution and tips some onto a cotton pad. The bites in Holtz’s arm look deep and painful. “How the hell did you get bitten there?”

“Mighta been tryin’ to calm it down.” Holtz sighs. “Bad idea. Five out of five doctors don’t recommend it.”

“This is going to hurt.” Erin wipes the wet pad along the bloodied edges of the wound, trying very hard to ignore the other woman twisting and hissing in pain.

 

The wound has mainly clotted, but she knows she needs to stitch it up. Such a massive cut anywhere on the body is never good, but it’s even worse placed on such an active part of the body. 

“I really don’t want to sew this.” 

“Just do it, Gilbert!” Holtzmann says through gritted teeth. She reaches out and grasps onto a handful of Erin’s t-shirt with her bloodied hand and squeezes tightly.

 

She does it. 

 

The pained groan she hears from Holtzmann is something she’s never heard before and never wants to hear again. While she’s definitely thankful for her medical certificate, now more than ever, the ‘pop’ that she feels when her needle passes through flesh is the worse thing in the world.

 

Holtzmann whimpers for a few more moments before finally, thankfully, passing out. Erin stitches her up, working quickly, then washes the blood off herself and sterilising her tools.

 

By the time she’s finished, the other woman is coming to again.

“How much did I miss?” She asks, sounding more lucid, but continuing to look as terrible.

“Ten minutes?” Erin shrugs, trying not to show how much the whole medical procedure had affected her. There was a reason she didn’t become a biologist. “Serves you right for harassing dogs.”

Holtzmann chokes out something that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I should stop trying to make friends… Do we have any clingwrap?”

“Why?”

“Well, I wanna have a shower, but this thing…” She trails off and indicates the terribly-stitched wound. “I’m bloodier than a vampire on feeding day, and although we could just wipe me down, I’m pretty sure you’re not into that.”

“Leave it until another day when it’s not your blood and you’re not hurt.” Erin says, very firmly. “I’ll find the clingwrap.” 

There’s no clingwrap, but they improvise with a plastic bag.

 

Erin sits on the bathroom floor while the other woman is showering, resolutely ignoring what is going on behind the curtain. She’s here to make sure Holtzmann doesn’t pass out in the shower from blood loss. That’s all.

“When did you last have a tetanus shot?” Erin asks, the thought just coming to her now that the immediate crisis is over..

“Like… two years ago?” Holtzmann’s voice comes floating back to her over the sound of the shower. “I was dumpster diving and I found this super neat car battery, but I cut myself on something. Abby took one look at me and drove me to the hospital. Good times.”

“You should be in the hospital.” Erin mumbles.

“No.” The blonde says resolutely. “I’m fine. Chuck me a towel, would ya?”

Erin gives her a towel. Platonically. Without looking. 

“I’m gonna apologise now for anything I say or do because I’ve just lost a shit ton of blood -” Holtzmann exits the shower, completely covered in a giant towel, “But you are doing the biggest version of ‘no homo’ that I’ve ever seen right now, Gilbert.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, yes!” Holtzmann snaps her fingers at her, completely managing to keep her towel up using the power of will alone. “D’you have a hoodie I can borrow? I’m really not keen on putting a tight t-shirt over stitches, eh. I didn’t bring one.”

“Yes, I do.” Erin heads into the bedroom, with Holtzmann padding along behind her. 

She rummages through her luggage for a moment and pulls out the grey MIT hoodie that she practically lives in on weekends. “If you bleed on this I’m suing you.”

“If you cover the stitches with a bandage I’m less likely to.” Holtzmann heads over to her bags, and starts pouring through them, one handed. 

Erin concedes. It’s a good point. She goes and gets the non-adhesive pads and the medical tape from the kit in the bathroom.

 

When she arrives back, Holtzmann’s half dressed with pyjama shorts on and the towel still clutched around her torso.

She tapes her shoulder up, deliberately only focussing on the matter at hand. Now is not the time for anything else. When she’s done, to the best of her (admittedly limited) ability, she takes the supplies back to the kit in the bathroom. 

Holtzmann’s wearing the hoodie when she gets back. It looks good on her. Erin feels oddly… possessive? Said possessiveness is because of the hoodie, and only the hoodie. She’s certain.

“One more thing…” Holtz asks, gingerly. “I mean, I wouldn’t usually ask but it’s really hard to get them all with one hand, and can you - look, can you help me with the bobby pin thing?”

There are times that Erin forgets that Holtz’s effortless, messy style is really expertly created by someone with a lot of knowledge in physics. “Of course.” 

She sits behind the other woman on the bed and combs her hands through her hair. The blonde’s hair is impossibly soft and smooth, aside from the veritable thousands of pins within it.

“How long does this take?” She gasps, when the number of pins in her hand reaches around the 20 mark.

“Five minutes?” The woman shrugs, “I’m used to it.”

Holtzmann wearing her hoodie, the hair thing, the closeness… it all feels too intimate, as though the events of the night are leading up to one thing in particular. Whatever Erin feels, she needs to remember she isn’t actually Holtzmann’s partner. She pulls the last pin out, and the other woman shakes her damp hair loose.

 

“You should… uh...get some sleep.” Erin springs up from the bed and smoothes her hands down her sleep pants awkwardly. “I’ll… uh, take the couch.”

Holtzmann looks around her. “I mean, you could always just stay here.” She offers, “It’s a pretty big bed.”

The bed is a queen. It is a pretty big bed, but no bed is big enough to deal with how Erin is feeling right now.

“No, it’s cool.” She waves, awkwardly, and heads towards the door.

“Erin.” Holtzmann stops her, “Seriously? The couch may look pretty, but it’ll ruin your back. They’re all class, no substance. Come on.” She pats the bed next to her.

It may look inviting, for a multitude of reasons, but Erin’s not become a leader in a predominantly-male field without learning to be stubborn. “It’s fine. Night, Holtz.”

She turns the light off as she leaves, barely catching Holtz’s subdued, “night,” as she goes.

 

Erin sleeps. Her dreams verge on nightmares more than they usually do.

 

Holtzmann is right. The couch does ruin her back.


	9. Group Chats are Never Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words occur.

_ Monday, 23rd of August _

_ AM _

 

Erin wakes to Holtzmann poking her with a pen. 

Through her bleary-eyed early morning vision, the other woman looks  _ soft.  _ Her golden hair is loose and draped over her still hoodie-clad shoulders. She looks so natural and so domestic and it  _ hurts.  _

 

“C’mon, get up!” She says, continuing on with the poking. “There’s things to  _ do.”  _

“Are you an angel?” Erin asks, because her brain to mouth filter doesn’t really exist until after her second cup of coffee in the morning. She rubs her eyes and wishes she hadn’t.

“I wish.” Holtzmann’s expression is fond. “C’mon.”

 

She grabs Erin’s arm with her uninjured one and hauls her to her feet. Erin’s back protests. Vehemently.

 

“How was the couch?” Holtz snorts. “Was it great? Super comfortable?”  
  
“Are you going to be this passive-aggressive all day?” She stretches. A lot of things crack in the process.

“Hey dude, I did offer you one side of the bed. It’s entirely your fault that you’re feeling so shitty.”

“Yeah.”

Holtzmann’s right. It is.

 

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Erin hobbles into the kitchen, and makes herself a coffee. The coffee brand is fancy-looking, and probably costs more than most pairs of shoes that she owns.

“We both have a ‘Couples Workshop’ at ten.” Holtzmann explains, from behind her. “And then I have to chat with some guy and you have to chat with some other guy. Then we have the afternoon off.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. Since when did I become the organised one?”

 

Something clatters behind her, and she doesn’t look to see what it is. Knowing Holtzmann, it could be anything. “You better not be taking anything apart.” She warns.

“I’m not.” Holtzmann replies, sounding far too innocent and far too much like a liar.

 

She sips her coffee and decides not to turn around for the time being. It’s probably best that she doesn’t know.

 

-

  
  


Their first workshop is located in a white timber house on the other side of the retreat. They arrive a minute or so before ten and are surprised to only see Harry and Emily, the young couple, there.

 

“Don’t worry.” Emily faux-whispers. “It’s only us. The other two couples aren’t coming to this one.”

 

Oh, thank God.

 

“I can see the look on your face.” Emily continues, “I know you’re pleased.”

“I will reserve my judgement of everyone else until I’ve spent more than half an hour with them.” Erin says carefully as she sits down, pulling Holtzmann down to sit next to her

“I won’t.” Holtzmann snorts, “Thank fuck.”

“See, I  _ knew  _ I liked you.” Emily waves a hand at Holtzmann. “Olivia’s terrible. We played romantic leads for a series of a show together and it was the worst time of my life, I swear.” She groans. “Her husband isn’t that much better. Anyway.”

She nudges Harry, who is ensconced in his phone. “Phones off while we’re in public, darling?”

“What, you’re getting signal?” Holtzmann asks, looking surprised. “I’m not. Thought it was a dead zone.”

“Yes.” Harry puts his phone away. “It’s not great, but it’s there.”

“Huh.” Holtz looks pensive. “I’ll have to check later.” She drapes herself over the couch that they’re sitting on and rests her head on Erin’s shoulder.

The latter isn’t into it. Totally. Not one bit.

 

“Is that tension I sense in these shoulders, Gilbert?” Holtz chuckles under her breath. “I wonder how that happened? Could it be because  _ someone  _ spent the night on the couch?”

“Shut up.”

“Night on the couch, eh?” Emily looks between them and raises her eyebrows. “Trouble in paradise?”

“More like an experiment that went wrong.” Erin says, by way of (very bad) explanation, because a) it wasn’t an experiment, and b) she’s lying to cover her tracks.

“Yeah it was a very scientific experiment too.” Holtz continues. “Erin’s hypothesis was ‘Can I spend the night sleeping on the couch without hurting myself?’. She carried out said experiment, very stubbornly, last night, and her conclusion was ‘no’ considering how well she’s walking this morning.” She pats Erin’s knee in a way that is both consoling and very patronising.

“Ornate but uncomfortable. Yes. That did happen.” Erin can’t exactly deny it.

 

“The bed’s great presuming you have the same one as us.” Harry contributes. He leans forward to get closer to them. “So, what’s it like being a Ghostbuster? Your organisation’s work is phenomenal.”

Erin’s about to say something about how ‘fascinating’ and ‘enlightening’ it can be, when she’s interrupted by the arrival of James into the room. This sort of thing seems to be happening a lot lately.

 

“I’m so sorry that I’m late.” James looks flustered, “There was an incident with the pond.”  He sits opposite them. “I’m just going to rush start this since I’m running about ten minutes behind. Basically, what we’re doing today is pairing up and just enjoying conversations with people that aren’t our partners. It is vital to learn the importance of communication within a marriage, and it is good to know how to compromise. Your partner is an individual person too, and you need to treat them as such. Jealousy within relationships is never a good trait, and so, you need to learn how to be codependant, which I know can be hard at such a new place in a marriage, but it is best that you learn that now.”

 

Erin blinks slowly. She’s pretty sure she managed to catch everything the man said.

 

“So, that being said, we’re going to pair up. Holtzmann, you go with Harry, and Erinm you go with Emily. Talk about who you are. This is  _ you  _ time, not your partner’s time. I’ll come around and see how you’re going soon. Go!”

Holtzmann clambers off her and says, “Farewell, my liege.”

“My liege. Really?” 

“We’ll find a pet name eventually.” She taps her on the head gently and heads off to sit next to Harry.

 

Emily scoots over and sits next to her on the couch. Having exchanged a few words at the introduction meeting the day before, the atmosphere is not awkward, but it is a little odd. 

“Loved your work last year in New York, by the way.” Emily says. “Saving the earth from a plague of ghosts? Hell of a first impression.”

“Thanks.” Erin flushes slightly at the praise. “It’s lucky. It was very coincidental that the whole thing worked out the way that it did.”

“Isn’t life just a series of coincidences though?” Emily muses.

 

They consider what could have been for a few moments.

 

“How old are you, anyway?” Erin asks, because it’s been bugging her. “You and Harry look very young.”

“Oh thanks, it’s my moisturising routine.” Emily preens and flips her hair around in a jokey way. “I’m kidding. I’m 20. He’s 21.”

“And you’re at a couples retreat?” She’s surprised despite herself.

“It was his parents’ idea.” The redhead purses her lips and sighs. “Ugh.”

“I take it that you’re not big fans of them.”

“No.” She laughs quietly. “The whole marriage is a fake, anyway.”

“You too?” Erin says, before she can stop herself. She immediately realises and clamps a hand over her mouth, but the damage has been done.

“Look, look.” Emily looks delighted beyond belief. “I won’t say anything to the press. I have as much to lose as you do. I’m an actor, he’s from a famous family. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours?”

And despite herself, and despite the consequences it could have on their mission, Erin agrees. She just wants someone to talk to about this. Someone who isn’t Holtzmann. Someone who knows what it’s like.

 

“Right, so basically,” Emily starts, leaning closer and putting a hand on Erin’s knee. She looks cautiously at James, but he’s sitting and listening earnestly to Harry talk, so there’s probably no chance that he’ll hear them. “Haz and I have been good mates for a few years. I met him during an exchange a few years back. When I moved here to actually do the ‘acting thing’, we caught up. Turns out that his family thought that he was gay and were being super homophobic pricks to him about it. I had a need to stay in the country and the visa thing wasn’t going so well. Thus, this. When his fam found out that he was getting married, to a woman no less, they paid for us to come here and get to know each other better.”

“Wow.” Erin takes it in. It’s almost a legitimate(??) reason to fake a marriage. Why does she feel more comfortable with this than her own fake marriage? She doesn’t know. She also doesn’t want to think about it.

“We’re both bi as heck right, but strictly platonic bros. You know that they’ve bugged the rooms, right?” Emily leans back and runs a hand through her hair.

 

“How does everyone know that they’ve bugged the rooms?” She hisses.

“It comes with the territory.” Emily explains. “We’ve had what could probably be described as an ‘overkill’ amount of fake sex in the last two days. Have you been doing that?”

“What?!” She could  _ never. _

“They’ve bugged the rooms for a reason. Lets them know what you’re up to. Most married couples bang. We are no exception. Plus, it’s pretty funny. Y’all should give it a go.” She indicates between her and Holtzmann with a wave of her hand.

“I think - I think we’re just fine.” Erin’s blushing even harder now. She’s pretty sure it shows.

 

“Okay.” Emily nods. “What’s your story?”

“There’s something here we wanted to investigate.” She outlines the scenario quickly. Although the other woman told her what was (presumably) the truth, she doesn’t want to give too much away. “They wouldn’t let us see it. We told we had to be married to get in. Now we’re here. Completely fake marriage.”

“Right.” The redhead muses. “Does she know that though?”

“What?”

“I mean…” She says slowly, “You two have  _ stunning  _ chemistry. I’m an actor. I’m trained to look for that sorta shit. The way you two act with each other… does she know it’s a ruse? To that effect, do  _ you  _ know?” She says it casually but her gaze is earnest. 

“Of course I do.” Erin doesn’t want to do this now. She averts her gaze from the younger woman. She could be better at eye contact.

“Don’t lose it.” Emily warns, “I mean, I’m young and all, and I don’t want to step on whatever y’all have going on, but you two seem like you have something good. Don’t let this one go.”

 

Just then, James calls time and they switch partners.

 

-

 

Later, they’ve finished the group session, Erin’s bid a rushed farewell to Holtzmann and ran off to her one-on-one meeting. The day has been a whirlwind of emotions and it’s not even noon yet.

 

The counsellor’s name is Luke. He’s blonde, and bears an uncanny resemblance to Kevin, bar his South African accent. He reassures her that she can ask for a female counsellor if she wishes but considering that she’s going to be making up most of what he’s going to ask her, she tells him not to bother.

 

She doesn’t tell him about the lying thing, of course, but it is prominent in her mind.

 

“So,” He says, after they’ve discussed her childhood and work life (bar the year-long ghost incident when she was a kid because she’s not telling another soul about that until some idiot on the internet discovers it and airs it for the world to see), “Tell me about your relationship with Holtzmann.”

 

“Well, we met last year…” Erin thinks, trying to phrase it in a way so she won’t have to spill all her secrets to a doctor she barely knows. “My creative partner, Abby, and I were reunited after some time apart. Holtz was working with Abby then. She introduced herself with that really cheesy pick up line, ‘Come here often?’, and it really started from there.” She smiles at the memory. How times had changed in a year. She can barely believe that she and Holtz didn’t know each other a year previously. They just seem to  _ click  _ together.

“Thanks, Erin.” Luke says, “But I know about that. You’re summarising a year long relationship in tabloid quotes. Tell me  _ about  _ Holtzmann. Tell me why you love her. Go on.” He waves a hand in a way that she supposes is supposed to be encouraging.

 

It’s not something she’s really ever had to think about. If she could summarise why she likes spending time with the other woman in a sentence…?

“Holtz is just so…  _ herself…”  _ Erin says, knowing it doesn’t make much sense. “She’s so passionate about what she does and she lets people know that. Oh! And she’s so  _ good  _ at what she does as well, like she made us all this equipment when we first became Ghostbusters, and she gave me a swiss army knife because the gun I wanted wasn’t ready, and she said that ‘no woman should go out unarmed!’. You know…?” And maybe it's just because she's sitting across from a man who seems to want her to talk, but maybe it's what Emily said to her earlier in the morning that's made her realise. The words flow. 

"The gun that she made for me in the end was  _ so  _ good. I just love how good she is at things, and how much she likes candy and how terrible her puns are. She woke me up this morning by poking me with a pen, and that’s such a Holtzmann thing to do! She's a great dancer, in the weirdest way, and I like watching her. Despite the fact that everyone seems to think that she's crazy, she's a complete sweetheart. I knew her for like a day and a half and I spilled a massive secret to her and she was totally sympathetic. She barely knew me... And don’t even get me started on how stunning she is, because the woman is  _ gorgeous  _ and she could be with anyone but she goes along with this thing with me and I don’t even know why. I could wake up with her any day of my life and I’d be happy because she’s just so  _ her  _ and I don’t give a shit that the newspapers think that she’s weird and that we’re delusional women destined for hell or whatever because I love h- Oh.”

Suddenly, it all makes sense. How could she have been so blind?    
She chokes out something and she’s not really sure if it’s a laugh or a panicked sob. “Oh.”

 

“Oh? What’s oh?” Luke asks, looking vaguely concerned at her rush of nervous energy.

 

“It’s nothing.”

But it is something.

It’s definitely something.

Oh.


	10. Oh My

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holtzbert have chats and completely fail to notice the point.

_ Monday 23rd August _

_ PM _

 

When she returns to the cabin after the meeting’s finished, she doesn’t know what to do. The knowledge that she might, possibly, actually, be in some form of weird love with one of her closest friends is a bit of a shock.

 

She doesn’t know how she didn’t realise it earlier.

Then again, she’s never been the brightest when it comes to the whole ‘relationship’ thing.

 

(Bar college, but then again, college is an outlier and shouldn’t ever be counted.)

(College was certainly a time. But that is a story for another day.)

 

Holtzmann’s lying on one of the ornate couches, feet resting on the back and drinking something that is far more multicoloured than it probably should be. She looks up when Erin arrives and fixes her with a cheery grin. “Hey! I found a powdered thing in one of the cupboards- no idea what it is, it’s some health food thing I think, and I made a Skittles milkshake out of it. Want some?” She waves the (frankly nauseating) concoction at her.

 

Erin doesn’t know what to think. What do people do in this situation? Most of her relationships have resulted from too much alcohol or misguided experimentation. She’s pretty sure that people don’t just air their feelings out and go from there.

That being said, though, how did she not realise this before? Holtzmann is remarkably easy on the eyes, in a different way than most people are. Erin doesn’t know  _ what  _ to think.

 

“Hi…” She tries for subtly, sitting on the other couch, opposite Holtzmann. Her posture is very prim, very proper, and very her. “How are… you?”

Holtzmann narrows her eyes immediately, looking at her suspiciously. “Look, dude, you haven’t been possessed or anything, right? You don’t seem right...”

“I’m fine.” She tries to relax, but her body doesn’t seem to be responding properly so she just ends up sort of splayed out against the back of the couch. “I’m not possessed. Promise.”

“I will not hesitate to slap the son of a bitch out of you if you are.” Holtzmann warns, eyes narrowing even more.

“Is that a promise?” Erin replies before she can stop herself.

Jaw dropping, Holtzmann looks  _ delighted.  _ “Kinky, Erin. Wow. Seriously, though. You feeling okay?” 

She leans forward to press a hand to Erin’s forehead, and Erin’s damned if she doesn’t lean into the touch. This can’t be a new thing. She must have done this before. What has she  _ become? _

 

“You’ve got a fever.” Holtzmann says, brow furrowed.

Erin bats away the hand. “I don’t. It’s summer. I’ve been outside. I’m  _ fine.”  _

“Are you sure?”

“ _ Yes.”  _

“When did you last eat? Cause, like Patty says -”

“Low blood sugar is  _ serious.” _ They both say in unison, and break into peals of laughter. It’s true, yes, but it’s not always the root of their problems. Erin’s yet to find a study on the combined effects of low blood sugar and ghost possession. 

 

“Do you want to get dinner?” Erin asks, awkwardly. “I mean, like now, obviously, because it’s dinner time-” (She might have gone for a long walk after the counselling session. It might have been a long, tree-filled walk, of consideration and vague fantasy.) “-But like, when we get out of here as well? I know a good place where we can-”

 

The words chat/talk/make out are on the tip of her tongue, but she feels like now is probably not the time.

 

“Eat some stuff?”

 

Holtzmann laughs and stands up, downing the rest of her entire drink in one. “Ask me that tomorrow, darlin’, I’m still not sure that your mind’s totally right right now.” 

Offering a hand to Erin, she drags the brunette to her feet. She turns to grab her boots.

 

From behind her, Erin shrugs. Ridiculous. She tried?

 

\--

 

Later, after they’ve shared a giant ‘healthy’ ‘pizza’ (it has a base made of cauliflower) and some decent conversation with the gay couple from New Jersey, they head back to their cabin.

“Y’know…” Holtzmann muses, fiddling with her phone. “I haven’t been able to get any signal anywhere we go in this place.”

“I’m the same, actually.” Erin says, relieved to have a conversational topic that is relatively neutral to talk about. “I was talking to Abby yesterday, the phone cut out just after I told her that we were fine and we were looking into the power fluctuations.”

“Ironically, I had almost the same conversation with Kevin when I called the firehouse…” Holtzmann fiddles more with her phone, “Phone cut out halfway through too. Haven’t had signal since.”

“Why do I get the feeling that someone wants us secluded from the outside world?”

“It’s not great. However, I’ve had absolutely no energy readings tonight, which means we can’t track them. We’ll be staying in tonight.”

“Like real married people?” Erin can barely contain her interest.

“Yep.”

 

\--

 

“You should totally come to bed, yknow.” Holtzmann’s wearing a oversized shirt that says ‘[Ghost Girl Gang](http://www.redbubble.com/people/misspimpernel/works/22538165-ghost-girl-gang?grid_pos=10&p=t-shirt&style=womens)’ on it and not much else.

Erin swallows reflexively and keeps her gaze firmly on the blonde’s face. _Okay_. Things are going  _this_ way.

“Don’t judge the merch, by the way.” She waves a hand at her attire. “It was ten bucks and I wanted to show my support. Yknow.” 

“That’s… good of you.” It’s more than good. It’s precious. She doesn’t say that.

“Yeah.” She shrugs, and walks closer. “What’re you doing anyway?”

Erin clutches the pad close to her chest and refuses to answer. She’s been trying to write an equation for the rate of how her life has gone from one to a hundred since she woke up this morning, but the page has really just devolved into a series of scribbles. “Nothing.”

“Okay. Come to bed?”

Erin surprises herself by saying, “Okay.” She’s tired anyway, and she’s pretty sure she can’t handle another night on the couch. 

Holtzmann suddenly looks concerned, “I know you’re possessed now, who took the Erin who nopes out of everything?” She pokes Erin with a finger cautiously.

Erin scrunches up her nose and refuses to answer. 

“Eh.” The other woman shrugs, “I’ve done worse. C’mon then. This bed is fucking awesome.”

 

The bed is, indeed, fucking awesome.

The company isn't that bad either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit filler-y, lemme say. but, it's also holtzbert feels, so eh.
> 
> who spotted the snl reference?


	11. Tuesday 24th August, AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirty dreams and unexpected shower visitors, oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for blood/unreality/medical stuff

_Tuesday 24th August_

_AM_

 

In the faint haze of unconscious, she dreams. They always start the same. She’s in the car and Holtzmann gets in. She whispers under her breath _we’ve got ten minutes_ and _it’s important_ but in the tangle of limbs and clothing that follows, Erin’s never really sure what _it_ is. She wakes, feverish and _wanting_ for something that seems just out of reach.

Today is not any exception, except her dream is more on the ‘hallucination’ side of things and it’s also three am. The LED clock in the corner bores a hole into her head and it takes her a moment to realise two things.

Firstly, she’s pretty sure that the pounding in her head and general nausea is indicative of a fairly terrible flu.

Secondly (and this is the more pressing issue), Holtzmann is wrapped around her like an adorable blonde limpet. And although she’d generally be into that sort of thing, because she’s not entirely made of stone, she’s sweatier than she’s ever been in her life and she’s pretty sure that’s not just because Holtzmann seems to run on a temperature approximate to a literal oven.

 

She struggles free and clambers to her feet, room swimming about her.

If this trip couldn’t get any better, honestly.

 

Stumbling over to the bathroom, she lies down and lets the cool feeling of the tiles wipe some of the heat from her skin.

She’ll stay here. Just for a little while.

 

Which is, unfortunately, exactly where Holtzmann finds her, five hours later.

 

“You don’t look so good.” The other woman says, helping her to clamber to her feet.

She’s got a sore throat, a pounding headache, and lines from the tiles imprinted into the surface of her skin. She doesn’t feel so good.

“You know you’re hotter than a literal oven, right?” She rasps, completely failing to notice the double entendre in her words.

“I try.” Holtzmann smirks, “In all seriousness, I run super hot. Like, I’m never cold. Should have told ya. Soz.” She places a hand on Erin’s forehead and the woman tries to bat it away. “You _do_ have a fever. I told you yesterday. I knew you were acting weird.”

“I wasn’t acting weird.” Erin mumbles, giving up with the batting and just succumbing to the treatment. “I had a point.” She sneezes. It hurts. A lot.

“Sure thing.” Holtzmann takes her arm as she wavers on her feet. “Have a shower. I’ll make you my patented flu cure. You’re lucky we don’t have anything to do this morning.”

 

Erin groans, remembering that yes, they still have things they need to do. The noise hurts her throat more and she immediately regrets it.

She shucks her clothing as best as she can and staggers into the shower. She realises that standing isn’t really going to work, considering how much the world is swirling about her. Coughing, she wonders how this sickness had come on so fast. She was _fine-_ well, not necessarily fine but not _ill-_ the day before. Perhaps it’s psychosomatic.

 

She settles cross-legged on the shower floor and lets the hot water pound into her back, washing some of the aching in her limbs away.

As she tilts her head back and looks up towards the ceiling, the lights flicker. When they come back on, she notices something was definitely not there a moment before. A pair of semi-translucent arms have manifested halfway out of the ceiling.

 

Now would really be the time for a ghost to manifest.

It doesn’t seem to be actually ‘doing’ anything, so she sits still for a moment, debating whether to get out of the shower. It looks like a Class IV, semi-permeable, shaped mass, but it doesn’t seem exactly dangerous.

That is, until it starts manifesting properly out of the wall and heading towards her. It’s covered in chains, but doesn’t make any sort of noise.

 

It doesn’t look particularly scary, and Erin’s definitely seen worse things on a day to day basis, but the flutter of fear low in her stomach seems to disagree. She scrabbles back, and pushes the shower door open with one hand.

The ghost continues to advance and she doesn’t turn her back on it. It’s moving faster now, coming for her throat. She knows, without a doubt, that this ghost wants to _kill_ her. She climbs to her feet, reaching behind her for a towel.

She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t have any equipment with her, and with her hands shaking the way that they are, she doesn’t know what she could do even if she did. She’s not felt so scared of a ghost since she was a kid. This is not a ghost in a subway station. This is pure, unadulterated, _fear._

She turns for a second to grab the elusive towel, and when she swivels back, the ghost is right in her face, pushing her back up against the wall. She pants, too shaken to cry out or even move.

It is then, as she takes a final step, her balance goes and she trips. Unable to stop herself, she hits the ground head-first.

 

She loses consciousness quickly.

Perhaps it’s for the best.

  


-

  


She comes to in the midst of being stitched up. As well as the headache pounding the inside of her skull, there’s a fair amount of burning coming from outside it as well. She groans, and tries to push the malingering hands away.

 

“Erin. Chill. I’m trying to stop you bleeding all over me, come on.”

She stops, opening her eyes slightly. The bathroom is brighter than the sun, and she’s wearing a bathrobe. How she got into it is anyone’s guess.

Holtzmann’s kneeling in front of her, gloved hands working upon a spot on her forehead. It hurts like hell, but she’s not got the energy to say it.

“I knew I should have stayed in here.” She murmurs, under her breath. “I’m an idiot. Shit.”

She tugs on something, and pain arcs through Erin’s head. She squints more and can make out a lot of blood on Holtzmann’s gloves. Head wounds always bleed a lot.

“Not your fault.” Her throat is still buggered to hell, but she’s not slurring. That’s a good sign. “There was a ghost. In here.”

“A ghost?” The other woman pulls back for a moment and looks at her consideringly. “Okay.”

“No!” Erin hisses. “Don’t give me that. I know when people think I’m making it up, and I know I’m sick, but don’t pretend that you believe me when you don’t. Don’t you think I’ve had enough of that?” She pushes Holtzmann’s hands away and stares her right in the face. “Don’t lie to me.”

Holtzmann takes her chin in her hands and tilts her head back and forth, looking her eyes.

Erin winces. The headache is not getting any better.

 

“I’m not trying to lie to you.” The blonde says, “Just… is there any chance you could have been hallucinating? You’re sick and sometimes -”

“No.” She says firmly. “No way.”

“Okay.” Her voice holds a tone of finality. “I’ll check. Later. Concussion check. What’s an equation for a change in gravitational potential energy?”

“Mass times gravitational field strength times difference in height. Ask me something complicated.”

“Centripetal force?”

“Mass times speed squared over the radius of the path. I said something _hard.”_

“It’ll do.” Holtzmann squints at her eyes again. “How many fingers?”

She holds four fingers up.

“Four.”

“Good. No double vision or blurriness?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” Holtzmann settles on the floor opposite her and peels off her gloves, which by this point are completely covered in blood. “What happened?” She tosses the gloves in the trash.

 

“I was minding my own business and a ghost decided to drop in. Literally. From the ceiling.”

“If it was anyone else but you saying that I would think they were concussed.”

“Shush.” She’s quiet, trying to get her thoughts in order, “I’ve never been so scared of a ghost before. Ever. I don’t know why I was, either.”

“I’ll check it out.” Holtzmann grabs her hands. “I will. But you’re going back to bed. I don’t think you’re concussed. No blurry vision, no slurring, no confusion. You’re lucky, Gilbert.”

“I don’t feel lucky.” Erin draws in a breath through her teeth as she’s hauled to her feet. “I feel terrible.”

“I mean I would say it ‘could be worse’, but I don’t want to jinx it.” Holtzmann knocks on the wood of one of the bathroom shelves for good measure. She shoulders most of Erin’s weight as the pair stumble out of the bathroom.

 

After depositing the older woman on the bed, she says, “Drink the thing, Gilbert. Have a nap. You’ll be better soon.” She points at a huge cup of something that is vaguely steaming on the bedside table.

“I will, _Doctor.”_ She says, pointedly, dragging the covers up over her legs.

“See, you can’t even use that as an insult, Gilbert, because I literally am.” Holtzmann hugs her and says, breath tickling her ear, “Don’t fall out of bed or do something else dumb this time pal, cause I’ve had enough near-heart attacks this morning already.” She pecks her on the cheek and leaves.

 

The faint scent of cheap fruit shampoo and metal draws Erin straight down into dreamland.


	12. Tuesday 24th August, PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CUDDLES

_ Tuesday 24th August _

_ PM _

 

She’s less than happy to discover that the workshop they have to attend in the afternoon is something titled “Fostering Intimacy in Relationships”.

Still, on a positive note, Holtzmann’s flu cure has worked wonders. Her joints ache less, her headache has gone, and although her throat still hurts, it feels less like it’s been raked with sandpaper.

So, in two words, it’s good.

“We could… not go… to this thing this afternoon.” Erin says, as she walks into the kitchen. The place smells delicious, like chicken soup and  _ home.  
_

“Cop-out.” Holtzmann looks up from a magazine. “How’s the head?”

“Marginally better.”

“I knew it. Holtzmann’s Patented Flu Cure works wonders.” She smirks, “and for the record, patented means I stole it from the internet like ten years ago.”

“Of course.” She sits at the table, and leans over to look at the magazine. “Better Homes and Gardens? Holtz, I never knew you had it in you.”

“Shut up.” Holtz stands from the table and fetches her a bowl of soup from a container near the stove. “I’ve read everything else and you won’t let me take things apart. Do you know how bored I am?”

“There’s always the spa?”

“I’m not going to the spa on my  _ own.”  _ Holtzmann pushes the bowl in front of her, “I may be crazy but I’m not  _ weird.” _

“Fair enough.” She tries some of the soup. It’s remarkably good, with a strong herby flavour that warms her and comforts her in one spoonful. “Did you make this?”

 

“I’m not that good a housewife, come on. Room service.”

“It’s good.” She has more of the soup. It continues to be very nice.

“Yeah. Did you read about the -”

“-Intimacy workshop thing? Yes. I did.”

 

“That’s gonna be fun, right?” Holtzmann raises an eyebrow at her and keeps paging through her magazine. 

“There’s nothing I love more than discussing my feelings with strangers.” Erin says, and scrunches up her face at the thought.

 

-

 

The counsellor for their workshop is Luke. The blonde smiles when they walk into yet another wood-panelled meeting room.

 

“Erin, it’s good to see you again!” He shakes her hand, “And this must be Holtzmann. Nice to meet you too.” 

“Enchante.” Holtzmann winks at him and takes his proffered hand. “What do we do at this workshop, then?”

“I’ve got a few questions to ask you.” Luke says, indicating for them to take their seats. “I’ll tailor the rest of the session around your answers to those.” 

“Rad.” Holtzmann slumps down on one side of a love seat. 

 

Erin takes the other side, and resists the urge to cough. The walk from their cabin had taken more out of her than she had thought. She relishes in ‘not moving’ for a few moments.

 

“So, you two have only been married for a couple of weeks, right?” Luke asks, pen poised above a notepad to take notes.

“Yes.” Erin answers quickly. Maybe if they get the questions out of the way, they’ll get out of here sooner.

“Good. How’s married life treating you?”

“...It’s fine…?” What else is she supposed to say?

 

“That’s good to hear.” Luke smiles placidly, “Now that we’ve got the easy questions out of the way, I’ve got some further questions to ask. Remember, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, we can stop.”

“Of course.”

“Have you consummated your relationship yet?”

 

Erin chokes on her own saliva and starts coughing. 

As she hacks what feels like a good portion of her lungs up, Holtzmann rubs her back soothingly and says, “Sorry. She’s not been feeling great today. She means ‘no’.”

Luke calmly waits for Erin to stop coughing and hands her a tissue box when she does. She blows her nose and tries to lower her heart rate to something healthy by thought alone.

 

“Are you two a sex-positive couple or-”

Holtzmann says, “yes” at the exact same time as Erin clears her throat and says, “no.”

The pair exchange glances. Erin tries very hard to convey ‘if you’d just said no we could have missed all of this mess’ within one look but she’s not sure if it translates. 

“What I… mean to say…” Erin takes the initiative, trying to inch her way out of this mess carefully. “-is that I’m very sex-positive, just not exactly in this relationship yet.” She waves a hand weakly, trying to convey unspoken truths that don’t really exist.

“That’s entirely fair enough.” Luke smiles gently, “I understand that the pair of you are a very new couple, and I hope that during your stay at Sunny Skies we can help you reach that level of intimacy. Sex is nothing to be afraid of.”

She’s not afraid of sex. It’s just… the whole… scenario is a lot more complex than Luke has any idea about. “Okay.”

 

“Good. We’re getting somewhere.” The man’s voice is remarkably calming, despite how much Erin’s brain is screaming at her to leave. “When did you last have sex, Holtzmann?”

“‘Bout March last year.” The other woman is disturbingly casual about it. “I met a girl in a bar… y’know how things go.” She shrugs. “She wasn’t very good in the end. I think she was a Doctorate student post hand-in on her first night out. I don’t know.”

“You slept with a college student?” Erin hisses, slightly appalled.

“It was like five years difference. It’s not weird.” Holtzmann shrugs again.

It’s not that weird, considering the age difference between them. It’s what… six(??) years. She supposes that she can’t throw stones.

 

“What about you, Erin?”

“It was about the same time.” She says, and it’s true. “It was at the end of a relationship with a colleague of mine, and I didn’t really enjoy it.” She hadn’t really enjoyed the relationship on a whole, but there were ways to get better jobs at Columbia, and she wasn’t exactly opposed to doing what needed to be done. That being said, it wasn’t as though she was actually sleeping her way up the corporate ladder, but if she came across someone who she  _ genuinely liked  _ sometimes things could.. happen.

“I understand your desire to hold off on the sexual intimacy in this relationship if you’ve had bad experiences in the past.” Luke says.

He doesn’t know the  _ half  _ of it .

 

“But the fact of the matter is that your current partner is not the person you’ve spent time with in the past. This is the person you’ve chosen to spend your life with, and I would hope that you view this relationship differently.” 

 

She does. But it’s not because of the sex thing. She actually likes Holtz, for a start.

 

“To help aid intimacy within relationships we have a series of exercises you will complete over the next week. The first one is over here.” Luke stands, and leads them past a bunch of chairs to what looks like -

“A kiddie pool full of cushions?!” Holtzmann exclaims, sounding positively delighted.

“Yes.” Luke grins at the other woman’s expression. “Now, we don’t want this to become a sexual space, but we want you two to just spend some time together, snuggle a bit, you know how it is. Understand intimate contact and how it extends to your relationship - that sort of thing.”

 

Erin nods. Fair enough. 

 

“I’ll be back in half an hour or so for a discussion.” Luke explains. “As for between now and then -” He waves a hand at the kiddie pool and walks off.

 

Erin clambers into the pool, falls on her face more than once and eventually settles down quite comfortably on a cushion shaped like a heart. It’s fitting in more ways than one.

“You’re...eager.” Holtzmann says, a bemused look on her face.

“Cuddling’s not a sexual thing, don’t make it weird.” She says, shrugging. 

The amount of times that they’ve all been possessed (and as a result, come out of that possession), they’ve needed to find ways to ground themselves and bring themselves back into full control of their own bodies. Cuddling does the trick nicely. Sometimes, after a long hard day, there’s nothing better than sitting in a pile with your three best friends and remembering that you’re a human.

 

“Yesterday’s Erin wouldn’t have said that.” Holtzmann says slowly, shucking her shoes and clambering into the pool as well.

“Yesterday’s Erin didn’t have a brain injury.” She’s only half joking. 

“Yesterday’s Erin is gonna be back after she’s gotten over that flu.” Holtzmann replies, not unkindly, but more in a matter-of-fact way. She finally settles down onto another pillow, right next to Erin, but not actually touching her.

“You really don’t understand when I’m being sincere, do you?”

“Sincerity is arbitrary when you’re probably mentally compromised.” The blonde lies down on her back and sinks into the pile of pillows.

“ _ That  _ is rude.” 

“Is true though. And I didn’t find anything this morning. When I looked.” She doesn’t voice the obvious ‘for the ghost’ but it is blatant in her tone.

“I didn’t hallucinate it. It was there. I could hear it. It had presence. Holtzmann, don’t be like the people at school. Please. Not you.” Erin’s had people ignore her logic and disprove her theories for the entirety of her life. She doesn’t need it to come from Holtz as well.

“I believe you.” Holtzmann pats Erin on the shoulder from beneath a pile of cushions. “Honestly.”

“You’d better.”

“I would always believe you.” And her tone is completely and totally serious in a way that it usually isn’t.

“Thank you.” She sighs, and deciding to completely go for it, she opens her arms and says, “Come here.”

 

Holtzmann mock-gasps. “But what about your virtue, Erin?”

“Don’t be mean.”

“That was a bit far.” She says, “I’m sorry.” Using some sort of worm-like power, she crawls her way through the unstable cushions and lays her head on Erin’s shoulder. It’s nice. It’s the sort of human interaction she’s been craving, the kind without entendres and expectations, where she can negotiate what happens next. Erin puts an arm around her and sighs.

 

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Sighing.” Holtzmann mumbles into her neck. “You Austen heroine, you.”

It tickles.

“I never pegged you for a literary expert.”

“Ugh, y’know.” She makes a noncommittal noise, “They wouldn’t let me take just what I wanted in college. Had to take a lit paper and a drama paper on the side.”

“Are you saying you were an  _ actor _ for a bit?” It’s not an unrealistic thought. Holtzmann’s pretty dramatic as is.

“Like one semester. I can remember literally nothing from it, aside from Juliet’s  _ terrible  _ love monologue.” She groans. “Twelve year olds aren’t that sanctimonious. Shakespeare was a  _ prick. _

“Recite it?”

“Ugh.” She groans again,”...uh, something, something - ...will make the face of heaven so fine/ That all the world will be in love with night/ And pay no worship to the garish sun. So realistic. And then they both die.” 

“Very romantic.”

“Yeah, if you forget that she’s like twelve and he’s like twenty and they bang and then he goes off and murders a guy. Super romantic.”  
  
“Shakespeare  _ was  _ a prick.”

“Yeah.” Holtzmann snuggles closer. She’s almost the exact size and temperature of a radiator, but somehow, it’s okay. The room is cool enough. “How’s the head?”

“Not bleeding everywhere, thanks to you.”

“Yeah I figured you might want to keep your blood inside of you. It can be helpful.”

“Mmm, really?” Her laugh is low, and calmer than she expects. She doesn’t feel like she’s verging on the edge of hysteria at all, which frankly, is great. It makes a change.

“It’s not like I’ve conducted  _ all  _ of the tests, but so far it’s a pretty good idea.”

“I’ll have to try that next time.” She reaches out, and touches Holtz’s foot with her own.

The other woman seems to use that as a prompt to wind their feet together.

She’s content, in a way that she hasn’t been for ages. The touch of another human is remarkably good.

Her thoughts drift to the rest of her team. While they’re here, relaxing in abject luxury, what could they be doing?

They’re currently fighting off ghost rats in a filthy sewer tunnel as they try and search for a device that is disrupting cell signal to the greater New York area, but Erin doesn’t actually know that.

She just presumes that somewhere, someone is having a worse day than she is, and she should take this one as it comes. It’s a good mentality to have.

 

Holtzmann’s saying something and Erin, who isn’t really listening, replies with a content, “mmmm?”

“I mean I did say we could totally make out right now, but I have a feeling you didn’t quite hear me.”

Erin lifts her head up and shoots her a look that’s four parts affirmation and about six parts confusion.

“You don’t need to give me the look like you just saw me murder a goose.” Holtzmann huffs, “I  _ was _ joking.”

“For the record, I wasn’t actually that opposed to the idea.” Erin says, sleepily. She’s just so comfortable in this pillow nest, despite the fact that her arm’s going a little bit numb. “You’re here, I’m here, our bodies are here. Why not?” She’s pretty sure that right now she would agree to anything.

“Um… okay?” Holtzmann sounds seriously bemused. She sits up, hair falling loose across her face. Taking one of Erin’s hands, she leans over her, and -

Luke takes the opportunity to walk right back into the room.

Balls. Foiled again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few notes:
> 
> \- as for Erin's age, I'm going off what Ghosts of Our Past says, which is that she's 38/39 this year, rather than K Wiig's actual age. and lemme just say, i am right royally annoyed that k wiig is one day off being a virgo because i'm a virgo and although both melissa and leslie are virgos i want to claim everyone.
> 
> \- i love shakespeare. he's an asshole, but he wrote good plays. it's a mixed bag.
> 
> ALSO i'm writing the ending of this thing atm, and i'm gonna throw it over to yall. pick option A or pick option B. leave your answer in the comments. i'm not gonna tell yall what the options actually are, but pick either A or B!


	13. Wednesday, August 31st 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's sex in this one.

Over the next few days they attend more intimacy sessions. A lot of the things that they end up doing are absolute crap - at least in their very qualified, scientific opinion. There’s a particular technique called a ‘Soul’s Kiss’, which involves them pressing their foreheads together and staring into each other’s eyes. 

 

This leaves them at precisely the same place where they started, except Holtzmann has a headache and Erin’s eyes are watering. 

 

They see some of the other retreat-goers at group sessions, but on a whole, they keep to themselves. Luke continues to badger them about the whole sex thing, which seems to delight Holtzmann to absolutely no end. It’s not that she  _ likes  _ making Erin uncomfortable, it’s just that it’s awesome to actually see her come out of her shell a bit. The woman is naturally rather inclusive, but the sex talk thing seems to be working.

 

Things come to a head (quite literally) on the 31st of August.

They’re walking back to their cabin after lunch. Erin’s drinking a coffee out of a large keep-cup that has ‘Sunny Skies’ embossed on the side. 

 

Holtzmann’s walking backwards, for the simple fact that she  _ can.  _ She nearly trips over a log, but rights herself just in time and continues walking backwards.

“We should totally have sex.” She comments.

 

Erin spit-takes for the second time in as many weeks, except that this time it’s coffee. A lot of coffee goes on the ground. “Repeat that?”

 

“We should totally have sex.” Holtzmann repeats, secretly enjoying the look of surprise and indecision that is spreading across Erin’s face. “And by that, I mean fake sex. If we  _ pretend  _ to bang, Luke’ll get off our backs about it. The place is bugged to hell, remember?”

 

Erin takes another sip of coffee, looking thoughtful. The shock seems to have subsided quite quickly. After she’s swallowed, she says, “You have a point.”

 

“I have a...point?” She hadn’t expected the other woman to agree so fast, if at all.

 

“Yes.” She shakes the cup and seems satisfied by what remains in it, “Personally, I’m not exactly keen on disclosing my entire sexual history to him every time we meet.”

 

“You have some kinky stuff in your past, Gilbert?”

 

“Everyone’s slightly into BDSM, Holtzmann, come on.”

 

Whatever she had expected, it wasn’t that. She laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind!”

 

“Your plan could work.” Erin shrugs. She’s got nothing to lose at this point. They’ve got four more days at the camp, absolutely no leads, and a counsellor with far too much interest in their sex lives to put up with. “It’s not like we’re getting anywhere else with this mission, anyway. If anything, Luke not hassling us might make our sessions shorter and give us more time to find the source of the power surges.”

 

“The power surges have been really low lately.” Holtzmann agrees, “But yeah. Get him off our backs. Right.” She laughs. “We’ve come a long way since that first night.”

 

Erin tries to be mad, but fails miserably. She mocks, “It’s all about the spirit of  _ communication  _ which we’ve learned here at Sunny Skies, right? It’s one hell of a testimonial.”

 

“Yeah, I know, right? Couples retreats aren’t totally just a waste of time! They can put it on their website. ‘Ghostbustin’ Gal Pals endorse communication in relationships.” She waves her hands in the air to indicate a headline. “Just what we all need.”

 

“It’s been good here, though, hasn’t it?”

 

“Course. I mean, I love sewers and dead rats more than any other gal, but yeah it’s been rad.” Holtzmann gives Erin a thumbs up. “You’re a good wife, Erin Gilbert.”

 

“I try.”

 

-

 

Later that night, they’re in bed together, talking quietly under their breaths. From what she knows, Holtzmann’s discovered that there’s a sound threshold on the bugs and they won’t pick up any noise that is pitched too low. Technology only works so far. Holtzmann had scoffed, at the time, and had said later that she could design a bug with no minimum sound limit, but she wasn’t exactly going to tell the retreat owners that.

 

“So… how do we do this… thing?” Erin asks, more nervous than she’d like to admit. The whole sex thing is fine, but the whole fake sex thing with obvious people listening in is… less fine. 

“Well, I’ve been told I’m damn good with my mouth-” Holtzmann begins, and doesn’t get much further when Erin elbows her in the ribs.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Holtzmann snorts. “I’m serious. It’s not hard. It’s like… being in a play.”

 

“Not an experience I’ve ever had before.”

 

“Okay, so you’re going to tell me you’ve never faked an orgasm before?”

 

“Not really, no.”

 

“Shit.” Holtzmann looks at her with a grudging sort of respect. “Where do you find these people?”

 

“Nerds do it best.” Erin says the unofficial quote from her alma mater’s engineering club. It hadn’t exactly held true, and was more ironic than anything, but she’d not exactly fallen into the trap of having to ‘fake it’.

 

“Still.” Holtzmann sits up. “It’s easy. Just pretend you’re in a really bad porn. One where the girl’s like really into it and she’s not even being touched by anyone. That sort of stuff.” As if to punctuate her words, she climbs onto her knees, and throws her weight back down onto the bed, which lets out some form of a creak.

 

“Please, baby!” She moans, “Come on!” 

It’s probably the worst form of dirty talk that Erin’s ever heard, but she’s not going to argue that it doesn’t sound legit. 

 

“Seriously?” She mouths, feeling flustered and also really into it at the same time. 

 

“Yeah!” Holtzmann mouths back, a wild gleam in her eyes. She winks, and moans again, this time even louder. It’s ridiculous, and also  _ really fucking hot. _

 

Erin’s not going to lie, she’s thought about similar situations to this.

To have it actually happen in front of her, though? It’s wholly different. And a hell of a lot better.

 

Holtzmann lays back, kicks her heels against the bed a few times and moans again. And if Erin wasn’t quite so distracted by the other woman’s panting and moaning, maybe she’d join in. 

She watches, mouth dry and heart pounding in her ears. If this was real - if she could actually touch Holtz, if she could just  _ feel  _ that soft skin, press the other woman down onto the bed and hear the noises she’d actually make when she’d come -

 

“Shit.” She mutters. She’s got it bad.

 

Holtzmann shoots her a look, but keeps going. Erin doesn’t exactly need to contribute at this point, considering what exactly they’re supposed to be  _ doing.  _ She falls back against her pillow and tries to keep her breathing under control. She’s getting a little bit riled up, despite not actually physically participating. It’s like Holtzmann’s movements are affecting her or something. Funny that.

 

She gives the bed one last shake, letting out a loud, shuddering gasp that makes Erin bite her lip hard enough to draw blood. Jesus. She’s not religious any more, but jesus. That felt  _ real. _

 

“Baby, let me.” Holtzmann pants, and gives her a look that seems to indicate ‘your turn’.

 

“I’m good. I’m good for now.” She says, crossing her legs over one another to try and minimise exactly what she’s feeling. It doesn’t work.

 

“Okay.” Holtzmann slumps down next to her, still panting slightly. She mouths, “I have to do all the work? Seriously?”

 

Erin can’t do much more than stare. The other woman is flushed, hair akimbo, and eyes shining. It’s a pretty damn good look. 

 

A silence falls between them.

 

The room is quiet, aside from Holtzmann recovering her breath, and the buzz in Erin’s head. The silence would be comfortable, if she wasn’t so aware of the press of the blonde’s body against hers and how undone she looks. 

 

She thinks about what it would be like to kiss her. A proper kiss, not just the stumbling one they had forced themselves through during the wedding. Holtz looks light and comfortable, not unlike how she looks when she’s made a breakthrough on an invention. She wants to kiss her until they both can’t breathe, until it’s fast, it’s hot, it’s dirty; until this fiction is made a reality.

 

But she doesn’t. 

In a retreat, for a marriage based on lies, now is not the time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a terrible person, I know!
> 
> but this is some funnies considering that some of what is coming next is DARK SHIT.
> 
> I chose option B, btws.
> 
> ;)


	14. September 1st 2016. Part One.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHEKHOV'S GUN.

_ September the 1st, 2016. _

 

The next day they’re surprised to find Luke beaming at them when they arrive for their intimacy class.

  
“Something looks different.” He indicates, pointing between them, presupposing in the way that many people do that you can actually physically tell when someone’s had sex. “Did you take my advice?”

The pair exchange glances. Something has definitely changed in the air between them, but it’s not entirely because of the fake sex. Something has happened. Maybe it’s just their relationship evolving to its natural conclusion. Maybe it’s not. Only time will tell.

 

“Yes…” Erin says slowly. 

 

“Good.” Luke looks pleased, as though he’s almost been witness to audio recordings of them doing it or something. “I’m happy for you. Now, did you manage to say goodbye to Cal and Jacob before they left this morning?”

 

“They… left this morning?” Erin takes the seat that Luke points to.    
  


“Yes, unfortunately.” Luke sighed, “It’s a shame, they were a great pair. A family emergency, or so I heard.”

 

“Okay.” Erin says, unsure as to why he’s telling them this.

 

Holtzmann takes a seat on the other chair next to her and crosses her legs.

 

“This is the time in the schedule that I would usually tell you two to take a trip to the swimming pool in the south of the retreat and enjoy some time in each other’s company in a more public space,” Luke says, “but unfortunately the pool’s shut for the foreseeable future.”

 

Erin glances at Holtzmann, suspicious. This sounds like something that could be relevant. Also, the power surges  _ had  _ been coming from the south of the retreat.

 

“Why is it shut?” She affixes a nonchalant tone and hopes that it is apparent to Luke.

 

“From what I heard,” Luke frowns, “A raccoon got into the filter and died in there. They didn’t  discover it for a while and it ruined the system. They’re going for a complete overhaul.”

 

“Gross.” Holtzmann’s look is anything but. “Did you see it?”

 

“No.” Luke winces and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Plastering a more casual smile over his face he says, “I’m not good with blood. Anyway, instead of going to the swimming pool, we’re going to try another new technique that…”

 

-

 

Later, Erin’s eating lunch alone in the dining room. Holtz’s gone off somewhere, and the only other people in the room are the Duke and Duchess in one corner. They keep on looking at her and muttering under their breath.

 

She wonders if it’s her hair.

 

Finishing her sandwich and exiting the dining room, she nearly runs smack into Holtzmann, who’s rushing towards her, an earnest look on her face.

 

“Oh my god.” She says, hurriedly, “I was just coming to find you!”

 

“Why?”

 

“Come with me.” She takes her arm and drags Erin off towards the trees. 

 

“Why? What?”

 

She holds up a metal cylinder. It’s a couple of inches long, and about the thickness of a pencil.

 

“What’s that?” Erin asks, curious besides herself.

 

“Dog whistle.” 

 

“How did you… get it?”

 

“Alright.” Holtzmann waves a hand a her. “You know Eric? The guy with the really rad… everything? Well, I ran into him. Turns out they don’t care much about repairing his stuff and he’s got a generator in his ‘man cave’ - not a euphemism, an actual place - that’s been on the blink. I fixed it, snatched the dog whistle on the way out. He’ll never know.” She looks satisfied. “Now we can actually do what we’re here to do.”

 

“Good work. But -”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“If you’re going to investigate that pool tonight, I’m coming with you.” Erin says, suddenly struck with an oddly… protective… desire. “Both of us or not at all.”

 

“Fine.” Holtzmann pokes her tongue out at her. “We’ll be partners in crime then.”

  
“You bet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was mainly filler. I wrote the next chapter weeks in advance and I've just been linking the continuity to it slowly.   
> We're getting near the end, pals.


	15. September 1st, 2016. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go swiftly to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is dark. Y'all know how the overall tone of this fic has been fairly sarcastic and comedic? This chapter... isn't.
> 
> TW for referenced(???) sexual assault (it's not graphic at all, it's basically just a trope), blood, death, fear, guns and scary things. Also for general humiliation.
> 
> If that sort of thing is something you can't handle, I've put a break in the text and you can skip from the break down to the note at the bottom of the page where I'll summarise what you've missed in words that aren't as harsh.
> 
> Godspeed.

_ September 1st, CONT. _

 

They slam the door shut, leaving the dogs outside to bark and throw themselves against it. Holtzmann had dropped the dog whistle on the way as nervous tempers make fumbly hands, and they had been left to just make a run for it. Erin has barely kept her bag on over her shoulder. 

 

As they turn to face the center of the room, Holtzmann says, “Well, call me blind and all, but I don’t think that’s a swimming pool.”

Erin nods slowly, too taken aback by the sight to say anything more.

 

What used to be a swimming pool has changed into something much worse. The liquid is a deep magenta, with ghostly figures swimming around within it, occasionally reaching out of the liquid to try and claw their way to freedom.

 

“This is giving me serious flashbacks to the cinematic masterpiece that is 2002’s  _ Scooby Doo,  _ yknow…” Holtzmann muses, “It’s just the ghost thing and all.”

“That movie was a masterpiece.” Erin had a lot of free time in the early 2000s. She has no right to be judged.

“It so was. Did you know that in the original cut Daphne and Velma had to kiss to get their souls back in their bodies?”

“And they cut  _ that  _ out?”

 

“I know.” Holtzmann clears her throat loudly. “Anyway. While I could discuss excellent early-2000s movies all day, problem at hand.” She waves at the pool.

“I think… that could be something controlling it over there?” Erin squints through the gloom.

 

They make their way towards the tower of cabling. 

She nearly trips over in the dark, only just managing to right herself. There’s a lot of cabling on the floor. This place is a death trap waiting to happen, especially as it’s so close to a whole lot of water.

Holtzmann’s picking over the tower of cabling and metal, tiny flashlight held in one hand. 

Erin takes the flashlight from and holds it above her to try and illuminate the whole area. “Thanks honey.” Holtzmann elbows her out of the way as she follows another cable down to the base of the tower.

 

After a minute or so of scrabbling, and Erin getting increasingly more anxious, Holtzmann sits back on her heels and sighs. “Shit. I mean, this is a goddamn brilliant system, but shit.”

Erin crouches down next to her. “What is it?”

“Yknow how you lost your shit ‘cause of that ghost in the shower? And how you’d never been so scared in your life despite that we deal with things like this all the time? And how I didn’t really believe you because you were sick at the time?” 

“Not something I really want to remember, but yes.”

 

“Well now I know why. This is a feedback loop.” Holtzmann thumps the metal of the tower with a hand. “You sic the ghosts on people, and whatever fear they feel is fed through the machine-” She demonstrates with hand motions, “- and then it’s pushed back to them, threefold. Whatever you feel is made ten times worse… The ghosts must feed on the fear or something.” She runs a hand through the loose parts of her hair, “I mean it’s brilliant, but it’s  _ terrible.  _ A genius must have built this.”

 

“Oh, she is.” It’s a voice, from behind them.

Almost entirely in unison, the pair exchange glances and turn around.

 

Emily. She’s picking her way across the network of cables towards them, head held high.

 

“What are you doing here?” Holtz asks, suspiciously.

 

“Seeing the sights.” Emily replies, still walking. “Enjoying the view. Catching some… trespassers?”

 

Something is wrong. Something is terribly, horribly wrong.

 

“I mean, I expected you two to at least get here in the first week.” The woman stops near the edge of the pool, and leans against it. “I’m almost disappointed.”

“What’s going on, Emily?” Erin asks. She’s always been straight to the point, at least when it comes to situations like this.

“Don’t you get it?” Emily says, drawing something that looks vaguely like a remote control out of her pocket. “I’m the  _ bad guy.  _ Well, one of them.”

“You’re like twelve, come on.” Holtzmann comments, from besides her. Erin looks at her, and she indicates with her eyes towards the door that they came in through.

 

“Brave words coming from someone who’s currently standing on a whole heap of wires I could electrify with just one tap on this remote.” Emily waves the remote in the air. “I wouldn’t run, by the way. The dogs are still out there.”

 

As if to punctuate her words, a loud howl rises up from somewhere outside.

Erin shivers. This isn’t good. They’re equipment-free, and trapped on a death web. There’s not much they can do.

 

“I think we should run.” Holtz says, under her breath. “For old time’s sake.”

“Where to?” Erin grips her by the hand. “We can’t.”

“I know.” Holtz squeezes her hand, and turns back to address Emily. “So. Em. What are you gonna do with us?”

“I always did like you better, Jillian.” Emily waves a finger at her, “You’ve always been more logical.”

“Don’t call me that.” Holtzmann replies, voice suddenly tight. “You were so  _ nice  _ before.”

“I’m a compulsive liar, honey.” Emily replies, “It’s literally how I earn a living. Now, be a dear and head over to that door?” 

 

She points to a door that Erin can hardly see through the gloom. 

  
Holtzmann, dragging her ahead, mutters. “Get inside, overpower her, run for it. She’s small and there’s two of us.”

“Yes.”

 

The room would have been a changing room, once. Stripped of everything except the tiles, it’s dark and small and smells nauseating. There’s a crust of something dried and red ringed around the grate in the floor.

 

“Yep, that’s blood.” Holtzmann turns away, clearing her throat viciously. 

 

They’re going to die here. 

 

Erin fights to keep from retching at the smell of the place. It’s blood, and it’s metal, but it’s even worse as well. It’s fear, dark and claggy and stuck in her throat. They’re going to die here.

 

“Be good, ladies.” Emily calls from outside the room, and before either of them can move, the door slams shut.

They’re left, all alone in the dark and the blood.

 

“Perhaps we should have made a run for it earlier.” Erin muses, resting a hand against the door. It’s very metal, and very unmoving. Her hands are shaking. She’s trying not to think about that. She searches through her bag, tossing aside the dog whistle, the ball of yarn Kevin gave her, and other assorted items, but there’s nothing of use.

“Yeah.” Holtz paces around the room, looking agitated. It’s only just light enough for them to see, but it’s not light enough for them to see a way out of this.

 

“Ladies, ladies, do calm down.” Emily’s voice crackles through a speaker, high above their heads. “Nothing you can do will get you out of there.”

 

“Why are you doing this, Emily?!” Holtzmann shouts, vaguely in the direction of the speaker. “What’s the point?”

“Jillian, we’ll get to that. Shush. Calm down. Sit down.”

“You don’t get to call me that.” Holtzmann says, under her breath. “It’s not a name for you.” She settles in one corner, the furthest away from all the blood, and rests her head against the wall.

 

Meanwhile, Erin is slowly beginning to panic. There’s just something about a tiny room, that reeks of blood and flesh, that is just somehow off-putting. She bangs on the door, “Let us out, Emily! People will miss us!”

“No-one will miss you. You’re radio silence until the end of the week, remember? And Olivia couldn’t care about anyone except herself, the self-righteous bitch that she is. Her husband is dumber than a box of rocks, and Harry barely knows you. Cal and Jacob… well.. They -”

 

“They didn’t go home, did they?” Erin asks, dread rising in her gut, making her words come out terse and harsh.

 

“No.” Emily laughs. “That’s their blood you’re standing on. Fear is a powerful motivator.”

“Fuck.” She swears. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. They did it all to themselves.” She sighs, clearly exasperated with all the questions. “Clawed ‘emselves apart. Bled from the eyes, the nose, the ears - it’s a wonder what abject terror can do.” 

“You’re a fucking maniac.” Holtzmann grits her teeth. “I get the thing about wanting to understand people, but this is mania.”

“We’re not so different, Jillian.” Emily smirks, and it’s somehow audible through the speaker, “We both have a healthy appreciation for science and women.” 

 

“Why are you doing this?” Erin tries to appeal to the young woman. If she can just appeal to her they might-

“Because it’s  _ fun. _ ” The other woman interrupts her. “Because I  _ can.  _ Because I get to study you bastards and learn about how you react to things. Because I get as much damn pussy as I want if I keep on working here, and that’s a fucking delight. Because when we pull this off, I get to co-rule the world. That’s pretty great.”

 

“Kid, you’ve had your time.” Another voice interrupts Emily. “Go sit in the corner and let the adults talk.”

“Sarah?” Erin gasps.  She hadn’t expected the sweet, polite, owner of the retreat. That being said, she hadn't expected anyone else at all.

“Yup.” She says, popping the ‘p’. “Took y’all long enough. Thought I’d have to sic the ghosts on you in your bed, but you made it just in time.”

 

“What are you doing, Sarah?” If she could just  _ understand  _ she might be able to get them out of this.

“Hush now, Erin.” Sarah taps some things that sound like buttons. “Go and sit with your wife while you listen to this.”

 

Erin, having nothing more she can do - the door is locked tight - does what she is told. Holtzmann looks lost and younger than she’s ever seen her. She looks scared. No invention of hers is going to get them out of this one. Erin kneels and takes her in her arms. 

If they’re going, she’s going  _ first. _

 

Sarah taps another button, and Erin’s voice filters through the speakers, crackly and faint, but unmistakable. “She woke me up this morning by poking me with a pen, and that’s such a Holtzmann thing to do! And don’t even get me started on how stunning she is, because the woman is  _ gorgeous  _ and she could be with anyone but she goes along with this thing with me and I don’t even know why. I could wake up with her any day of my life and I’d be happy because she’s just so  _ her  _ and I don’t give a shit that the newspapers think that she’s weird and that we’re delusional women destined for hell or whatever because I love h- Oh.”

 

Erin blushes more red than she’s ever been, and glances away. 

What was simply a rush of emotion, of reckoning and realisation at the time, sounds perverted and  _ wrong  _ after the fact.

 

“How sweet.” Sarah says, sounding anything but. “People in love. You know, I figured that you two weren’t actually a couple your first night here. No-one harrasses my dogs without a reason. And then that whole scene in the bathroom? I mean you  _ knew  _ that the place was bugged, and you didn’t even  _ try  _ to hide what you were doing? It’s like you were begging to get caught. Faking a marriage is disgusting. But then you fell for each other. How… lovely. It’s like you were trying for a happy ending. This isn’t a movie, ladies. There’s no-one here to save the day. I would play your own sex scene back to you, but I don’t need anything distracting me right now.”

 

“You’re laying it on bit thick, boss.” Emily’s voice, although muffled, can be heard plainly.

“ _ Shut up,  _ Emily. I swear to God, you were a good lay, but you talk far too much.” 

 

“Hurry up.” Erin just wants to get the mortifying event over with, consequences be damned. “What’s your point?” 

“I knew it was real when I heard Jillian talk though.”

 

Holtzmann bristles in her grasp, but doesn’t actually say anything.

 

“This… this is simply pornographic.” Sarah continues, and hits another button.

 

This time, it’s Holtzmann’s voice, even more crackly and even quieter. “She’s brilliant - yeah? She’s got the kind of voice that people trust. I mean, I trust her, I trusted her as soon as I saw her and I literally trust four people in the entire world so that was good. She’s got this really specific thing going on and I know she’s really anxious all the time. I want to see her as she comes  _ apart.  _ Like honestly and -” 

There’s a bunch more things that make Erin redden even more and bite her lip almost to the point of bleeding. The thing is, she’s not even embarrassed. She  _ wants  _ these things to happen. She didn’t exactly want the whole world to hear them, but Holtz’s right. 

“So yeah, I love her.” Holtzmann over the speaker finishes.

 

“Sorry.” Holtz in life averts her gaze.

 

“Don’t be.” Erin decides to take the initiative for the first time in a while and says, “Look, I-”

 

“Whatever you’re going to say, leave it till we get out of here.” Holtzmann snaps her head up, eyes shining, and speaks ferociously. “Don’t give them the satisfaction.” She shakes Erin off with one movement and yells at the wall. “We’re not part of your fucking pervy fanfiction! You’re both fucking mad.”

 

“That’s bad language for a Doctor.” Sarah tsks, “But don’t worry, your time’s about to come. Em, set that lever to 500, while you’re over there.”

“No.” She says.

 

Perhaps there’s a tiny bit of hope after all. 

 

“What?!” Sarah snaps. “Did I say you could disobey me?”

“I’m not going to kill them.” Emily sounds as though she’s climbing to her feet. “We weren’t gonna kill them. We were gonna rough them up a bit, test the machine, but not kill them. These two are damn talented, we can’t kill them off.”

“ _ Why  _ can I never find anyone who isn’t sentimental?” Sarah tuts, “Look, Emily, do as I say or we’re going to have a problem.”

“I won’t kill them.”

“Fine.” Sarah’s voice holds a note of finality. “Your loss.”

 

There’s a suddenly, unexpected, gunshot.

 

Erin ducks out of habit. Rattled, and antsy, she glances around, but it’s clear that the gun wasn’t fired inside the room that they’re in.

 

“Sentimental cunt.” Sarah comes back over the intercom and sighs. “Actors. They’re all the same. Now that that’s dealt with…”

“Did you kill her?” Erin asks, quietly, finally getting it. This woman is insane. Completely insane. To shoot someone in cold blood - to kill innocents -... she’s insane.

“Yes.” Sarah signs, sounding not even a little bit upset. “It’s a shame. She was a phenomenal kisser.”

“You’re completely heartless.” Erin says.

 

“I try.” Sarah laughs. “Today, I kill you. The machine gets tested, I get two of the Ghostbusters out of the way. Tonight, I take on the world. Fear is such a powerful motivator. People will do anything I ask when I can literally make them so scared that they bleed out. I am a genius.”

 

“Yes, you are.” Erin says, trying to win her over with the last, desperate parts of her sanity, “But you can’t kill us. What if the machine goes wrong? You’ll need us.”

“Nice try.” Sarah says, “But it’s too late.” 

 

She taps a button and then all is quiet.

 

 

 

* * *

 

**BREAK - skip from here to the end if you're not up to the triggers mentioned above.**

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Whatever is oozing out of the wall was never human. It is dark, with tendrils that reach towards them, and huge glowing red eyes.

 

She’s never felt so scared in her life. She tries to back away, but it is all around her. 

It is the world, it is everything. 

This is not just fear. 

This is pure, abject terror.

This is dark, this is primeval. This is everything inside her screaming at her to  _run._

 

She crouches, puts her hands over her head, but it's not enough. The creature is inside her. It _is_ her.

This is possession, This is the loss of control of her own body but being able to see everything perfectly as she is manipulated, more helpless than a puppet on a string.  
This is weakness in her limbs and manipulation of consciousness.

 

This is isolation. This is knowing that those she loves will never touch her, see her, feel her again.  
This is the hollow emptiness in her heart.

 

This is assault. This is an alley at night, gun held to her head and hands tearing at her clothes.  
This is blood on her skin and lack of autonomy.

 

She shakes, coughs and feels the tang of blood on her tongue where she's bitten into her lip.

This is death. This is blood streaming from her face, from her hands, as she feels life fading from her grasp.  
This is watching light fade from others’ eyes.

 

This is the unknown. This is the faceless creature in the night as it follows her home.   
This is the other realm where bad things come from.  
This is the creator of all things dark.

 

This is blood. 

This is loss. 

This is darkness.

 

This is silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so basically
> 
> Erin's put through a whole lot of terrible stuff because she's afraid and the machine's affecting her. It's pretty upsetting and terrible. Then, there's silence.


	16. September 1st, 2016. Part Three.

_September 1st, 2016 - CONT._

 

“Erin?!”

 

At first she’s not even sure that it is her name that is being spoken. She drags her consciousness out of the abyss, concepts slotting back into place like a well-formed Jenga tower. But this tower is not so well-formed. Anything could break, at any moment. Consciousness isn’t necessary for life, after all.

 

She vaguely recognises the voice, but the usual-dulcet tones have been replaced by something far more pedestrian. She groans. “Olivia?”

 

“Oh thank God.” The other woman sounds relieved.

 

Erin opens her eyes. The room is too bright, and everything smells  _ wrong.  _ She takes a look at herself and wishes she hadn’t. There’s more blood than she expected.

 

“‘Liv, Holtzmann’s not breathing! I don’t know what to do!” Albert shouts.

 

Erin hauls herself upright, every muscle screaming at the movement. The room swings around her, but she is too focussed to acknowledge it. She knows what to do. She can save her. She  _ has  _ to save her.

She stumbles towards the man and her wife, barely aware of the absurdity of the situation. She can barely see, lights sparking behind her eyes, and she can feel blood oozing down the front of her clothes. But that doesn’t matter. She knows what to do. 

Dropping to her knees, she feels for a pulse. There isn’t one. She lies her ear on Holtzmann’s mouth, feeling for breath. There isn’t any, and she can’t see her chest rising and falling either. She’s not breathing.

 

She places her hands over one another and balls them into a fist. Completely ignoring the lines of blood marring the other woman’s torso and arms, she presses down just below the other woman’s sternum,  _ Stayin’ Alive  _ playing loudly in her head. Although it helps her keep time, the song has never felt so disgustingly ironic before. She presses down thirty times, feeling ribs beneath her hands shift as she does so. Pain arcs through her arms, but she ignores it. It’s not important. After thirty, she pinches Holtz’s nostrils shut, and breathes into her mouth. This is not a kiss of any sort. This is bloody, and disgusting, and life saving.

She takes another breath and repeats the maneuver, taking a second to check the woman’s chest. It’s not rising and falling. She’s still not breathing!

 

She starts again, making sure her pumps are strong and accurate. Her hands slip, covered in sweat and blood and she’s frantic and dizzy, just waiting for a response. She’s waiting for that spark of life to tell her that she’s done it right. That she’s saved Holtz’s life.

 

But it doesn’t come. She tries CPR again, a second time.

 

Then a third.

 

Then a fourth.

 

But there’s nothing.

 

She’s midway through her final CPR set and almost on the verge of giving up hope. Nothing is working. Blood is slippery under her fingers, and the metallic tang in her mouth is even worse. This isn’t working. She’s not tried hard enough. 

 

She leans down to try a final breath when… suddenly - suddenly -

 

Holtzmann comes alive with a swift intake of air.

 

Erin sits back on her knees and rests her head in her hands, shaking with relief. It had been so close…

She’s startled by a hand on her cheek. She looks up to see Holtzmann, blurry-eyed and bloody. Despite the blood, and despite everything that’s happened, Erin wants so desperately to kiss her.

“It’s alright.” She says. “I’m okay.”

 

Erin takes that moment as a cue to break down into happy tears. “If you ever do that again I’m killing you myself.”

 

“That’s not logical and you know it.” Holtzmann grasps Erin by the shoulder and leverages herself to a sitting position. “Wow. They should market death as some kinda drug. My head is spinning, but I may have just figured out why the coolant wasn’t working on the proton packs.”

 

“You’re an idiot.” She says, wiping away a bloody tear. “How do I put up with you?

 

Holtzmann smirks. “Because of my skills in science and my great body.” She wavers, and looks over Erin’s shoulder, eyes narrowing. “Duchess?”

 

“No, no, no, don’t call me that.” Olivia rushes over and crouches next to them. “It’s not actually my title. I’m… not exactly… who you think I am.”

 

Holtzmann rolls her eyes blearily. “Is anyone at this resort actually married?”

 

“Oh no, we are married.” Albert joins them. “We’re just not royalty.” He offers Holtzmann a hand and hoists her to her feet. She looks unsteady and grips his arm tightly.

 

“We’re investigative journalists, darling.” Olivia gives Erin a hand to help her up, completely ignoring the fact that she is almost entirely covered in blood. “We’re here on a case.”

 

Albert leads Holtzmann towards the door. “I’m sorry that we were rather obtuse-”

 

“I woulda gone with ‘rude’ but that works.” Holtzmann drawls.

“Yes, rude, quite.” Albert continues, “However, we have always found that if we project a certain kind of impression, people leave us alone. If we play ‘aloof’ and ‘rude’ enough, it conveys an air of importance, but not the sort of importance that people want to get close to.”

 

“So, you didn’t mean anything you said last week? Any of those horrible comments?” Erin asks, head spinning only partially from the blood loss.

 

“Of course not.” Olivia steadies her. “It was all a cover. We are here to help.”

 

“Hey, what’s this?” Holtzmann drags Albert towards another door, stumbling all the way. 

 

Erin takes one more look inside the room they had been held in, at the puddles of blood on the floor, and shivers. She slams the door shut. She can’t seem to stop shaking. It doesn’t feel like the shock has hit yet, but she can’t stop her hands from shaking. It doesn’t bode well.

 

Inside the other room, Holtzmann is hitting buttons and pulling levers, creating what could accurately be described as a serious racket. She is cautiously stepping over the body of Emily, who has a large, bloody hole in her forehead.  

 

Erin pushes away from Olivia and stumbles over to her. “What’s happening?”

 

“Sarah started the process.” Holtzmann says urgently, from between gritted teeth. “This is gonna release all the ghosts in there across the world. You know what we felt? It’ll be worse. It’ll be  _ way  _ worse.” Her fingers dance over the buttons of a rapidly-flashing control board.

 

“Can I help?” 

 

“Hold that lever.” She waves a hand at a large lever attached to the board. 

 

Erin staggers over and holds it down, noticing that the level moves under her grasp, seemingly wanting to rise back up again immediately. She puts her full weight on it, and groans from the pain that radiates through her forearms and up into her back. Shit. What had she  _ done  _ when she was out?

 

Holtzmann mutters to herself under her breath, dancing between buttons madly. The noise inside the room is rising in increments, like a machine powering up. It’s getting harder to hear.

Hitting a final button, she stops, and stares at Erin, shocked.

“Shit.” She swears. “Do you have anything-” She waves her hands wildly, “-string based?”

“No? Why?” She can barely hear her words over the din.

Holtzmann shakes her head, waves the other two people in the room over and asks them the same question. When they both reply in the negative, she says hurriedly, “This machine’s gonna explode. And soon. That lever needs to stay down, but we need to get out of here. So, string??”

They all look around the room, but it’s bare of anything other than metal and blood. They’re all wearing close-toed shoes, so no shoelaces, and no-one else seems to have anything on them.

 

It is then that Erin remembers. She twists to look in her bag, white-hot pain arcing up through her torso and into her neck. The pain is so sharp that she can almost taste it.

 

She throws objects out of her bag violently, digging deep, until her hand closes around it. The ball of yarn that Kevin had given her just before they had left is smaller than she remembers but it’s thick and strong-looking.

 

“This do?” She tosses it to Holtzmann.

 

Mouth agape, the other woman yells, “I love you!” and laughs in sheer, bloody-minded  _ relief. _

 

“I know.” At this point, it doesn’t even need to be said. They’ve gone through so much as a couple that the declaration, however lighthearted it is in the spur of the moment, resonates within her in a way that words couldn’t even encapsulate. 

 

Holtz gestures for her to climb off the lever, which she does, albeit uncomfortably. Together, they wind the yarn around the lever and a mounting bracket below it, holding it in place. It doesn’t look like it’ll hold for long, but it’ll give them the few minutes they need to get out of the place. 

 

United, they stumble out of the room and pick their way across the knit of cables that make up the floor of the pool area. They’re free, they’re alive, and they’re safe. The moment is exhilarating. . 

  
It is then that the tower of cabling that they encountered earlier decides to explode. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a few notes for this chapter.
> 
> All CPR described is accurate, at least as much in the way as I can properly word it. All other medical stuff I've written about so far is accurate too. 
> 
> I've been a fully-trained first aider for the last two years, and honestly, if it's within your means, you should totally try and become one. Courses are two days (or there abouts) and can often be subsidised through work or school. It's just really good to know that you are able to help save someone's life if you're needed to. I've used my first aid skills more times than I thought I ever would. 
> 
> Some links (your own countries are likely to have similar programmes)  
> [USA](http://www.redcross.org/lp/cpr-first-aid-aed-certification-hero)  
> [UK](https://www.redcrossfirstaidtraining.co.uk/Courses/First-aid-public-courses.aspx)  
> [NZ](http://www.stjohn.org.nz/First-Aid/First-Aid-Course-Overview/)  
> [Australia](http://www.redcross.org.au/first-aid.aspx)


	17. Star News Article

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have an allergy to pink i am so sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's be real, tabloids lie a ton. don't worry.


	18. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An actual chapter? What is this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for panic attacks and medical stuff

The room is too bright when she wakes. She squints, but there’s nothing above her to see.

 

It takes a moment for the voice to intrude on her consciousness. “Erin? Baby, can you hear me?”

There's someone above her, with silken strands of hair the colour of gold. Is she an angel? Could she possibly be an angel?

Is this heaven? Considering the way she’s been acting lately, probably not.

Heaven’s for chumps anyway.

She can't make out the voice. She can’t make out much of anything either. She decides to come back another time.

 

 

When she wakes again, the room is darker. She glances around, takes stock of her breathing and general awareness, and realises. She’s in a hospital.

Rain is pouring down, hitting the window outside, and the room is fairly dark.

 

She looks around more, trying to push herself upright. It hurts, but not to the point that she was expecting. It’s a numb, tight hurt, more than anything outright. There's a certain heavy feeling in her skull, but she can't quite figure out what that is.

Her eyes fall on Abby, who is dozing in a chair next to the bed, clothes dishevelled. She looks like a wreck. Something wells inside her at the sight of her best friend. Back there, back at the retreat, she didn’t think she’d ever see her again.

 

Speaking of her…

Holtzmann. And Patty. What if - what if Holtzmann had never made it out? What if Patty was preparing her funeral right now? What if Patty had hurt herself while they were at the retreat? What even, about Kevin?  

She pants, trying to draw in a world’s worth of air. Why can’t she breathe? She scrabbles at her chest to let more air in, and takes wheezing breaths that aren’t good enough. She’s suddenly back in the room with the creature. It’s around her, all-encompassing, her entire world. She’s going to die. She’s going to -

 

“Erin.” It’s Abby, who’s woken up and immediately taken charge. “You’re having a panic attack..’

Erin waves a hand, trying to simulate ‘I know’ and ‘I can’t breathe’ in one motion. She shakes, trying to draw in another breath, and sees sparks behind her eyes.

“Holtzy and Patty are fine. Kevin too.” Abby grabs her hands and squeezes them, “I want you to try and count backwards from 100 with me and take a deep breath between each number, okay?”

Erin nods, too paralyzed to speak. She tries to breathe again, but nothing is coming.

 

“Okay.” Abby draws in a deep breath, then says, “100. Come on, Erin.”

She breathes shallowly, anything more just hurting her chest. “100.” She croaks, and the movement exhausts her.

“Good, good.” Abby sighs and adjusts her glasses. She breathes again, “99.”

“...99…”

 

By the time they’ve plodded to 70, she can actually breathe again and her vision is less foggy. She’s still uncomfortably warm and exhausted, but she’s not going to die.  
She’s... better.

 

By 50, she’s almost back to normal.

But then again, does she even really have a normal any more?

Normal basically went out the window when a ‘normal’ resort and ‘normal’ people turned out to be fucking insane.

 

“Erin, I love you, but never do that again.” Abby says, and hugs her.

 

Erin, despite feeling all kinds of terrible, relishes in the hug. She’s safe. Finally, she’s safe. Abby is safe and grounded and feels like _home._

“Holtzmann? Patty? Kevin?” She asks, voice more hoarse than she expected. Tears prick at the edge of her vision and she furiously wipes them away.

 

Abby draws back and gives her a considering look. “Holtz is fine. She’s a bit banged up, but she’s fine. Patty’s developed a chronic distaste of mushrooms on pizza while you’ve been away and Kevin’s learned how to use our answerphone. We’re all fine. They’re all at home because it’s literally three in the morning, but they’re fine.”

 

“And you?”

 

“A little mad that I sent you two into that mess, but I’m fine too.”

 

“Hey.” Erin pats her on the arm, “Not your fault. If anything, it’s mine.”

 

“How on earth is it your fault?” Abby looks furious.

 

“Holtz is the inventor, I was the group leader. I should have made a call. Got us out of there when things were getting bad.” It’s true.  
They should have left as soon as Holtz got mauled that first night. It was the sign of worse things. They should have gotten backup.

 

“Erin.” Abby looks like she’s trying to keep from shouting. “You’re my best friend, but you’re an idiot. Oh my god, you two saved the damn world.” She gestures wildly, “Yes, some things did go wrong -”

 

“Three people died.” Erin says under her breath.

 

“-But you saved the damn world. And don’t say that you could have kept Holtzy safe, she had one broken rib and came out the back of it fine. I heard how you threw yourself in front of them when that thing exploded-”

 

“I did?” Erin genuinely doesn’t remember that. She did remember swearing that she would ‘go first’ in the event of a death-like situation but…

 

“Yes! I swear, if I had any real power over you then I would have you arrested by now for being a danger to _yourself._ You can’t save everyone, but you saved pretty much everyone and stopped the world ending. You mightn’t have been asleep for so lo-”

 

“Wait, what?” She looks at the other woman critically.

 

“Nothing. Don’t worry about that bit.”

 

_“_ Abigail…” Erin grits her teeth and tries again, “What’s the date?”

 

“Seventeenth of September…” Abby mutters, under her breath, and averts her eyes.

 

“I’ve been asleep for sixteen days?!” She yelps, barely managing to believe it.

 

“You were in a medically-induced coma for sixteen days, Gilbert. There’s a difference.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well…” Abby struggles to get the words out, sounding almost choked-up, “You did have a brain injury and nearly died twice on the table. You know. Standard stuff like that.”

 

Erin takes a moment to process. “Um…”

 

“Skull fracture, a swelling brain, several broken ribs and a whole lot of cuts.” Abby continues, matter of factly, “They didn’t think you’d make it. Y’know. Standard stuff.”

 

“Abby, I’m so sorry.” She sighs. “I won’t promise to be a hero next time, okay?” She buries her head in her hands, only just noticing the thick bandage covering half of her head. “Shit.” She sniffles. She doesn’t want to cry, but her body doesn’t seem to be listening to that.

 

“It’s okay.” Abby gestures for her to move over and then sits on the edge of the bed when she does. She opens her arms again and Erin falls into them, trying very hard not to sob. “It’s over. It’s fine.” She rubs her back comfortingly.

 

“I’m an idiot.” She sighs. She’s been so blind lately. She has so many things she needs to say, but not at the moment.

 

“Yes.” Abby replies, “But we love you. Don’t get three concussions within the space of a week next time, eh?”

 

“I’ll try.” She tries to laugh and chokes out a sob instead.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're about two??? three??? chapters from the end. thanks for being on this ride, folks.


	19. September 20th, 2016

_ September 20th, 2016 _

 

She sleeps the next few days away. That’s  _ very  _ her. Although she’s certain that she encounters both Patty and Kevin in her half-alive state, she has absolutely no memory of Holtzmann. That doesn’t… bode well.

When she can finally stay awake for periods longer than a few minutes, and everything that has hurt within her has dulled to a low ache, she decides to get up.  The rain pours down outside the room, and she can hear it splattering against the window but she’s not going outside anyway.

 

It’s not visiting hours, so the team has left. She’s on her own, but she thinks she can manage it. She’s less certain of that prediction when her legs buckle beneath her as they touch the floor, but she’s nothing if not stubborn, and she manages to keep herself upright by sheer thought alone. 

Walking is… difficult. Even though she hadn’t really injured much leg-wise in the explosion, every step sends a jolt of pain through her body. But she’s stubborn, and she makes it. At least, out into the corridor. The hallway is dim. She wonders if it’s even daytime. Her curtains  _ had  _ been drawn. The walk down the corridor is slow, but steady. She doesn’t even know where she really wants to go.

Just  _ out.  _ Somewhere that isn’t the same damn place where she’s been stuck for nineteen days of semi-consciousness and fever dreams.

 

She’s stumbling down the corridor to a door that looks promising when she hears, from behind her, “Going for a run, are we?”

 

“Hey, Holtzmann.” Erin sighs and turns around.

 

The other woman is leaning against the doorframe, arms folded. She would be the very picture of an angry teacher if she didn’t look quite so dishevelled. She’s got a portion of a bandage poking out from beneath the sleeve of her t-shirt, and her face is covered in cuts.

 

Erin tries for innocence. “I was just… going for a walk. You look terrible, by the way.”

 

“Not at three am, you’re not.” Holtzmann says gruffly. She takes Erin’s arm, and starts moving her back towards her room. “And you look worse.”

 

“Yes, mother.” Erin replies, and tries not to roll her eyes. She’s  _ fine.  _

 

“You’re not fine. You had a brain injury less than a month ago.” Holtzmann says, as though she’s reading her mind, which she very well could be.

 

Erin decides not to push it. She’s not going to admit that her chest hurts from the strain, but it does. Holtzmann doesn’t need to know that though. Erin’s always been stubborn. It’s one of her favourite traits.

 

Once she’s settled back in the bed from hell, Holtzmann turns to leave. Erin catches her arm and says, “Wait. Where have you been? I haven’t talked to you for ages.”

 

Holtzmann looks like she’d rather be anywhere else but she sits in the chair next to the bed and says, “Busy. I’ve been busy. It’s good that you’re alive though. Congrats on the living thing.”

 

“Thanks.” The silence is almost uncomfortable. It’s nothing like what they had back in the retreat. “How come you’re here? I’m really happy that you are, of course, but nobody’s come to make you leave yet.”

 

“I spiderman-crawled up the side of the building. Nothing major.” Holtzmann drawls.

  
“You’d win an Emmy for sneakiness.”

 

“I’d win an Emmy for Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series or something. Y’know. If I cared enough.” Holtzmann looks into the camera. She indicates at said camera, a security camera in the corner of the room and says, “The cameras are on a loop of footage from an hour ago. Not hard to do.”

 

“Oh. Um, well-”

 

“Look, I was just avoiding you because I didn’t want to do the ring swapping back thing, okay?” Holtzmann sounds like she’s been waiting to say this for a while, words rushing out in one quick stream.

 

“Um…?”

 

“We’re still getting divorced, right? Because that’s what you wanted?”

 

Erin’s heart sinks in the space of a sentence. She splutters, “After everything we did together you want us to divorce?”

 

“You wanted us to divorce. As soon as the whole thing was over. I probably have it on tape.” She says, matter-of-factly.

 

“That was  _ then.  _ This is now. Times change.” Erin begs, “Don’t you get it?”

 

“You were fairly mentally compromised the entire time we were away.” She replies, “I have no idea whenever you were being honest. I might be crazy, but I’m sincere.”

 

Erin rises to her knees and bites her lip to keep her voice steady. “I was being honest the  _ entire  _ time, Holtzmann. Concussions be damned, alright?”

 

“Were you? You didn’t seem like it during the wedding.”

 

“Well maybe I didn’t  _ know  _ during the wedding. These things take time, okay? But I know now.  Did you not hear what… Sarah… played us when we were in that room?” She winces, regretting bringing it up. The thoughts haven’t overwhelmed her yet, but she’s sure they will. The retreat is a distant memory and she wants it to stay that way.

 

“I was more busy trying not to die.” She mutters.

 

“It doesn’t matter now.” Erin doesn’t want to lose this. They’ve come so  _ far.  _ She didn’t nearly die to lose one of her most fulfilling relationships ever. She takes a deep breath and prepares to say one of the most scary things of her whole life. “Jill. I love you.”

 

She waits with bated breath as Holtzmann’s face seems to go through a whole range of emotions. There’s confusion and happiness, but most of all, there’s relief. Then, she explodes. “Fucking finally! Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to actually say that?”

 

But, it’s not bad. It’s not bad at all. 

 

“Probably longer than I knew…” Erin says quietly, lost in thought. She's almost giddy with happiness, but she's still able to leave this moment for reflection.

 

“Definitely.” Holtzmann bounces in her seat, “For the record, I share your feelings, always have, ever since I first met you in that damn lab at Higgins.”

 

“You do?!” She says, flushed and positively  _ glittering  _ inside. This is good. After everything that’s happened, this is  _ good. _

 

“Are you blind? Like, seriously, are you blind? I’ve been trying this thing for a  _ year,  _ Gilbert.” 

 

“I was trying this thing for the entirety of our time away and you thought I was  _ sick.  _ We’re as bad as each other.” She shrugs, “I’m still in the hospital but I know what I’m feeling.”

 

“Okay.” Holtzmann perks up, “Wanna make out?”

 

“Fucking finally.” Erin parrots, feeling light. “Just… mind the ribs.”

  
  


 

It mightn’t be a first (technically second, but who’s counting) kiss from a movie, and they might be somewhat crammed together on a too-small hospital bed, but it’s pretty damn good. 

 

Erin manages to hit her own self in the ribs and has to pull away, mourning the lack of contact almost immediately. She presses against the area that hurts and winces. 

 

“Probably shouldn’t try to be so damn heroic next time.” Jill mocks, but there’s no malice in it. “I’ll leave. You should be asleep.”

 

“I’ve been asleep for twenty days.” Erin whines under her breath, and grabs the other woman’s hand. “Stay.”

 

“Fine.” Holtzmann grumbles, “I love you, you idiot. Shuffle over.” 

 

When Erin moves, after a fair degree of discomfort, Jill climbs onto the bed and manages to just snuggle into her side. Hospital beds aren’t exactly made for two. It’s a bit of a design flaw. 

 

“If you elbow me during the night we’re breaking up.” Jill mumbles into her neck. 

 

She brushes a lock of hair off the younger woman’s forehead and sighs, “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we.”

 

“Gilbert, I wasn’t expectin’ normalcy when I signed up to be a ghostbuster. Considering we got married on a boat and you bit me when we first kissed, I wasn’t expecting anything.”

 

“I did  _ not  _ bite you.”

 

“Oh, you did.” Jill laughs, slinging an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, “There was actual, real blood. I just didn’t tell ya because you were really out of it.”

 

“I was really out of it.” It’s not as though she can disagree. The whole wedding was a bit of a blur.

 

“ _ So  _ out of it. Wanna still stay married, by the way?”

 

“Definitely.”

 

“Definitely?”

 

“Definitely. For tax benefits, mainly, but you know, you’re pretty good too.” Erin elbows Jill in the side, none too gently.

 

“Don’t…” Jill groans under her breath, “You’re an invalid, I can’t elbow you back.”

 

“Exactly.” Erin smirks. 

 

“You’re pretty good too. Y’know. For a  _ physicist.” _

 

“You cannot talk. You  _ actually  _ cannot talk.” Erin elbows her again. “Just because you make cool things...”

 

“Erin?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Shut up.” Using some force of will and amazing acrobatics, Jill moves around to capture Erin’s lips with her own.

 

  
There’s nothing more to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today and I'm turning 20 so that's honestly my main motivating factor for having this chapter end up the way it did (eg: happily). only two more to go!


	20. The Time Article

_Sunny Skies: A Retreat from Hell_

O. McLoughlin.   
Time Magazine  
22 September 2016

-

 

It is a tale as old as time.

Mummy and Daddy get married, but because Mummy and Daddy don’t love each other as much as they should, they spend inordinate amounts of money and go to a marriage retreat to make their relationship better.

This story, however, features one very ordinary retreat, and one very extraordinary tale.

 

Sunny Skies is a premium marriage retreat in the heart of Pennsylvania. Marketed as the ‘five-star retreat experience’ and ‘one of the best of its kind’, it caters to those of a more upper-class persuasion, as well as popular celebrities and artists. Over a two-week period couples are taken through individual and group therapy sessions to help alleviate any tension that being newly married can cause. They are fed meals by Michelin-starred chefs, and are treated to all the luxuries that money can buy.

 

It sounds like heaven on paper. It is unfortunate that the reality of Sunny Skies is a lot less humane.

 

Established by Sarah Roberts and her husband James in the early 2000s, Sunny Skies has welcomed over a thousand couples of some notoriety, a significant number of which have gone missing shortly afterwards. It is almost a wonder that people of such repute have vanished without a trace, but the records do not lie.

Of the 2048 people that enrolled in Sunny Skies’ programme, 201 of them have gone missing without a trace, 46 of them have ended up in psychiatric institutions, and 105 of them have been hospitalised with near-fatal injuries. While this combined number is only just over fifteen percent, it is a gross failure of our justice system to have not joined the dots.   
  
Sunny Skies, whilst being pristine on the outside, is a cesspool beneath.

 

I have had experience of this retreat myself. Late last month, my partner and I enrolled in Sunny Skies’ “Jumpstart your Marriage!” course, and following our prompt acceptance, we arrived in Pennsylvania just in time for the August 23rd start date.

Whilst the retreat had all the luxuries we expected, and more, it quickly became clear that everything was not as it seemed.   
  
The guests were told to stay inside after dark due to ‘unstable cave systems’ underneath the retreat, but the retreat was built on bedrock. We heard dogs barking at night, and we found electrical bugs in our room. Sunny Skies wasn’t a luxury resort, it was a deathtrap.

My partner and I conducted investigations of our own, but the majority of the retreat was locked up tight. We only noted power fluctuations around certain areas of the camp, and an erratic nature to our own behaviour.

It wasn’t until the second to last night that we were able to access the building at the heart of the power fluctuations, and we discovered that we were too late. A couple from New Jersey had perished at the hands of the ringleader of this whole plot, and two other women were nearing that point too.

While my partner and I were able to save them, we did not escape the building in time, and the two women were caught in the resulting explosion.   
For the purposes of privacy, I cannot write their names, but from what I last heard, they are recovering in hospital.

 

It is despicable when authority figures abuse their power, and Sarah Roberts’ case is more despicable than most. Born Sarah Stevenson in 1975, Mrs Roberts changed her name post a series of minor felonies in the early 2000s; arson, bank robberies, and the like. She decided to use the small fortune she had accrued from these felonies and created Sunny Skies, the perfect place to carry out her further experiments over the next ten years.

With a lust for blood and skills in torture that I am genuinely not allowed to write about, Roberts’ access to paying customers made her experiments quickly take a turn for the sadistic. While we do not know exactly how many people she experimented on, we do know that the experiments were inhumane and horribly cruel - with a focus on how fear manifests in the human body.   
  
Her lust for power quickly grew, and she knew that she had to do more.

Roberts has a genius-level IQ, and used that to her advantage. She built a machine to channel all of her power, and this machine was designed to rip a hole in reality itself to do so. I am fully aware that a lot of my readers do not believe in ghosts, despite the conclusive visual evidence presented during last year’s invasion in New York, but Mrs Roberts had no such qualms. She wanted power, and the only way that she would get it would be to use her machine to literally ‘scare’ people into giving her what she wanted.   
  
Upon viewing a ghost (which she controlled) the fear that the person felt would be multiplied threefold and forced back upon them, which created fear so palpable that the victim would often try to rip their brain out to be rid of it.

She recruited Emily Kilminster, a young Australian actress, to be her proxy. Emily would entice people into the retreat, and convince them of Sarah’s innocence. A pretty face can work wonders, and Emily’s certainly did. There is significant evidence that Emily was indirectly responsible for over fifty of the disappearances mentioned above. Emily’s story comes to an end, however, when she was shot by Sarah on the night of the first of September in an impassioned rage.

 

Sarah wanted to enact her plan on the night of the first of September, but the two unnamed women got in the way. She tortured them, and set her machine to reach critical power levels mere hours before dawn on the second of September.

It is only through the actions of the two young women that we are still here today.   
  
These women, using phenomenal science skills, saved our lives. We all should thank them for that. They suffered mental and physical torture and have lived to tell the tale.

 

As for Sarah, she scarpered once my partner and I arrived to help clear up the mess. She was caught at the border, trying to get onto a flight to Scotland. We have since questioned her, and disassembled her equipment.

 

Emily’s body, and the remains of those who lost their lives at Sunny Skies have not yet been recovered. The police investigation regarding Sunny Skies is still in operation, and if you have any information about the place, please contact us on (437) 555-5555.

 

As for the two women who saved all of our lives?

Well, I hope that they’re in the sun somewhere, enjoying each other’s company. They deserve it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE TO GO


	21. Epilogue

This is a tale as old as time.

Except, this time, they get to tell it.

 

Recovery is slow, yes, and painful, but that doesn’t stop the four women working together.  
Good friendships weather even the most painful of trials.

 

As payment for stopping literally the end of the world, the Mayor grants them access to his private beach. 

Whilst Holtzmann moans quietly and says, “Can I just do work? For once?”, Patty elbows her and says, “Yeah, we’d  _ love  _ to go.”

 

That is that.

 

Still sore, with stitches still holding too many parts of her together, Erin is content to lay out underneath a beach umbrella and drink bottomless (virgin) martinis. With the amount of painkillers she’s on, it’s probably not the best idea to mix them with alcohol. 

 

The sun beats down onto her from overhead. It’s warm, and a comfort in more ways than one.

 

Holtzmann flops down on a beach towel next to her, hair wet from the sea. “This is good.” She remarks, stretching lazily.

 

Erin’s eyes are drawn to the line of pale skin along her stomach when her swim top rides up. She swallows, and drags her eyes away. “It is good. We saved the world.”

 

“‘M betting not for the last time.”

 

“Of course not. What would the world do without us?” Erin takes another sip of her martini.

 

Holtzmann stretches out a hand and links her pinky finger with Erin’s. “You’ve still got the ring. Nice!”

 

“We’re married, Holtzy, why would I not?”

 

“Still.” 

 

“Actually, that’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Erin puts her martini glass down and turns onto her side, wincing as the movement puts pressure onto one of her ribs. “The inside of the ring. What does the inscription mean?” She’d looked it up in the end, but what she thought was Latin turned out to be something completely untranslatable. 

 

“Ah. Yes. That….” Holtzmann fiddles with some sand and has the decency to look a bit ashamed. “We could… not… talk about that?”

 

“Come  _ on,  _ Holtzmann. That's not an answer.”

 

“Fine…” She mutters, rolling her eyes. “If you must know, it says ‘love will triumph’ in Romanian. I made a customised ring. Sue me.”

 

“Oh you sweet sentimental creature,” Erin feels oddly touched, and starts laughing in the same moment, “I can’t believe you. You designed this ring before the wedding and you didn’t even know that I had a thing for you? Jillian Holtzmann is a romantic at heart, who knew?!”

 

“Shut up.” Holtzmann mutters, but she’s smiling. “I’m not a romantic.”

 

“Yes you are. Come here.” Erin says, and kisses her. 

 

 

Sometime later, through the haze of comfort that has permeated her mind, Erin hears, “Aw, c’mon guys, leave the PDA until you’re off the beach, okay?”

 

It’s Abby, who has trudged up from the beach with Patty in tow. The latter takes a sip of Erin’s ‘liberated’ martini. 

 

“Yeah. Y’all'll scare Kevin.” Patty drinks more of the martini.

 

Kevin who is sat about fifty feet away reading a book entitled “Headshots for Dummies”, doesn’t look up.

 

“Ruin our fun, why don’t you.” Holtzmann pokes her tongue out at Abby. 

 

“Y’all can make out as much as you want when we’re not on a beach together.” Patty collapses down onto a towel next to Erin. “I’m happy for y’all but no one wanna see PDA.”

 

Erin shrugs, “Fair enough.” 

 

Abby dries off her hair and sits down on the other side of Patty. She takes a martini, sips at it and says, “It’d be better with booze.”

 

“I  _ know _ .” Erin moans, “Praise be to the day when I don’t have to take seven pills every morning.”

 

“It’s good.” Patty wraps an arm around Erin and draws her close. “Y’all saved the world and got hitched along the way. It’s damn good.”

 

All five of them together, alive, with no world-ending catastrophe?

 

Yeah, it’s  _ damn  _ good.

 

 

“Hey, Patty?” Holtzmann shades her eyes and looks off into the distance, “I don’t think  _ that’s  _ damn good.” She points.

  
She’s not wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for reading this monstrosity, friends. I hope you've enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on the tumbs  
> [my gb blog](http://pansexualjillianholtzmann.tumblr.com)  
> [my main blog](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com)
> 
> or on the twits  
> [skyuni123](http://twitter.com/skyuni123)


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